I often get emails from the Texas Real Estate Inspectors Association offering various continuing education courses at convenient locations. They serve as a reminder of my ill-fated attempt to change careers in late middle age, when it looked like this newspaper gig wasn’t panning out anymore.
Two-and-a-half years ago, I was unemployed and loath to move from Longview, since my wife had a good job as a professor and our daughter was happy in school. We bought a lovely house, and I set about figuring out how to make a living.
Next time you open up your wallet or reach inside of your purse, chances are you’ll come into contact with bits and pieces of things that make up who you are. Commentator Gary Joiner explains why these remnants of life matter.
Sam the Dog and I walked in the early morning darkness the other day after a blue Norther blew through. I was bundled up against the wind, Sam tugging against the leash, enjoying the drop in temperatures. Leaves skittered across the pavement, which made a naturally skittish dog occasionally flinch. Even after more than two years of affection and living the good life, Sam still bears psychic scars. He was clearly mistreated before my wife found him lying up the hill in the street two years ago, with matted smelly fur and a look of resignation in his eyes. He had given up.