Author Archives: John Swinburn

The business part of the day yesterday started relatively early, an 8:15 appointment for a CT scan. This was a two-part scan; the head and the chest. The head scan was an annual precautionary check-up, intended to verify that there … Continue reading →

I learned I could only begin to know myself by reading what I had written. Only by absorbing the words I had chosen—to paint my thoughts in language—could I understand how my wisdom about myself changed from week to week … Continue reading →

Except for the immorality of it (including the economic and emotional damage it leaves behind), I might rather enjoy a life of crime. The challenges of the occupation might well provide the kind of adrenalin-induced “high” that few careers offer. … Continue reading →

Unlike most blog posts I write, this one began unfolding during the middle of a blazingly hot, humid, terribly uncomfortable Friday afternoon. I attempted to feel cool and comfortable, though—I finally set up a compact disk (CD) player in my … Continue reading →

I spent a short while this morning admiring hats worn by women during Royal Ascot Ladies’ Day at the Ascot Racecourse in Ascot, Berkshire, England. The hats, elaborately designed, deployed, and decked-out millinery, range from beautiful to grotesque, with a … Continue reading →

Yesterday was a productive, rewarding day. First off, mi novia went for some physical therapy. Then, a handyman began the process of installing shelves cabinets in my office, after first removing the trappings of gun racks from those cabinets. He … Continue reading →

Certain moments demand radical departure from normalcy. They may require paying attention to the ignored. Or dismissing the continuously connected. Clarity, perhaps, where once there was only a blur. Or inexactness where precision prevailed. Brief instances of understanding cry out … Continue reading →

When I was young, my mother bought iron-on patches to fill the holes I wore in my jeans. Those tough, adhesive-impregnated pieces of denim-like cloth probably extended the useful life of my jeans by a season or a year; I … Continue reading →

Someone else, deep in the middle of this steamy night, is pondering whether life has meaning. Beyond the trite aphorisms whose validity we seem to accept without question, another insomniac wonders whether life does, indeed, have intrinsic purpose. Does it … Continue reading →

Somewhere in the bowels of the National Gallery of Art (NGA), hidden from public view, is the Henri-Émile-Benoît Matisse painting La Coiffure. The 1901 painting depicts Matisse’s wife, Amélie, facing a mirror while arranging her hair. I do not know … Continue reading →

Once again, heavy rains took their toll on yesterday’s plans; lunch with friends at a country diner, postponed from Wednesday to Friday due to weather, had to be scrapped again for the same reason. Fortunately, though, weather was not a … Continue reading →

Tilting at windmills can be a fruitless endeavor, a noble enterprise that may yield nothing more than witnesses’ glazed eyes and gaping yawns. Convincing one’s unwilling army the enemy is real is the first step in vanquishing one’s adversary. Even … Continue reading →

My ego got quite a boost last night. The boost was the culmination of circumstances that began last Sunday, during a pot-luck lunch at church. A friend sitting across the table from us mentioned that she had to leave soon … Continue reading →

History—even recent history—tells us country names change. The place we now call Botswana once was known as Bechuanaland. Zimbabwe was Southern Rhodesia, then Rhodesia. Zambia was Northern Rhodesia. Croatia, Slovenia, Macedonia, Serbia, and Bosnia and Herzegovina, collectively, were called Yugoslavia … Continue reading →

There should be no disagreement, no debate: white men live with enormous amounts of unearned privilege. The simple randomness of birth gives us opportunities not available to people of color or to women. We are, in a word, lucky. Some … Continue reading →

Rain is a distinct possibility this morning. The early morning sky seems heavy, as if burdened and in need of relief. Rain can relieve the sky of its uncomfortable heaviness. Or so I’ve been told by clouds, who have a … Continue reading →

What I regret most in my life are failures of kindness. ~ George Saunders ~ George Saunders’ 2013 commencement address at Syracuse University preceded his book, Congratulations, By the Way: Some Thoughts on Kindness. A transcript of his commencement address, … Continue reading →

The proceeds of the sale of the “old” house are in the bank. I should be ecstatic that the long, tiring episode is behind me. I am glad it’s over. But I expected a degree of elation that, as of … Continue reading →

On occasion, the idea of writing a blog post holds absolutely no appeal for me. In fact, it seems burdensome, similar in effect to looking forward to a drive to my office, through heavy traffic, for a face-to-face meeting with … Continue reading →

Four-plus years ago, I wrote a post I entitled, The People Who Feed Us. In it, I mentioned almost in passing that I wished I had the opportunity to meet and talk to the farmers and farmworkers and the other … Continue reading →

These photos do not even begin to do justice to the environment surrounding the new house, but they will have to do until I find the time and inclination to take and organize and post more photos. Photos that show … Continue reading →

My “readership” as measured by “Statcounter” traffic monitors is down considerably. Especially the “regular” traffic, the number of returning visitors, is down. That’s a sign that what I write is not gripping enough to cause readers to want to come … Continue reading →

Despite having been to neither city, Traverse City, Michigan and Ann Arbor, Michigan have a fascination for me. I am especially enamored with Traverse City, the smaller of the two, with a population of roughly 16,000. But Ann Arbor, considerably … Continue reading →

One year ago today, the seduction began in earnest. It started weeks earlier, but it culminated with a visit to see his masks. His masks! How apropos! A visit to determine which of his personalities was the real one. Was … Continue reading →

Where is “home?” Is home the place of one’s birth? The place—or places—where one spent one’s formative years?  The place where one settled in adulthood? But what is home to people whose lives define the word “wanderer?” Is home a … Continue reading →