where the writers are


April 22






I have been hopping on one foot with a ball of hope shoved under one arm and a ball of hysteria under the other.  I wish I could tell from the outside of the ball which is the hope.  I worry I will put down the wrong one, so I hold on to both.  My life is sorely limited by the baggage, and I fear I am losing life with every hop.  A lack of information is my problem.  I don’t adequately know the properties of either and suspect my every interpretation.  Finally, I stand before my sponsor to ask the question of my life.

“That’s easy, Honey.  Hope is the one that bounces back,” is all she has to say.



Give yourself credit in a currency that enriches your life.







“Why does self-centered fear wear a costume

that looks so much like ‘other people’s opinion’?”

I asked my sponsor.


“For the same reason

that booze masquerades as ‘a good time.’

How would you ever fall into a pit

which used no pretense?


Naked ambition attracts far fewer devotees than addicts of

‘must make Mama and Daddy proud’

or the ‘doing better for my kids’ crowd.”


“Ambition is not all together bad!” I crow.

“Neither is fear in its proper scale,

but fear cloaks itself to seize more than its share of your life,

just like any parasite.


So take your spring tonic like a good kid

and keep the worms at bay.”