After more than 12 years of blogging, I’m not sure what it is that I want to write about anymore. For more than a decade I’ve written about books, politics, self-help, workforce development, aging—and a host of other topics. Lately, I’ve been posting frequently about America’s spiral downward towards something less than we are as a nation. Honestly, I don’t know what we’ll be as a nation in another five years, let alone 20. I’m guessing I won’t be enamored with the visual.
I don’t want to write about that today. Politics is off the table, too—I’ve decided to take a break from weighing-in on anything political.
Sports is a topic that many people like to talk and debate. These days, it often seems like the flipside of politics, at least in the greater-Boston market.
So for today, I’ll just pick a few random things I’ve observed over the past week.
The other morning on the way to the Bath Y to swim, I heard the band Switchfoot. The name is derived from a surfing term meaning to change feet while on the board. The members are West Coast guys and grew up with surfing. They had a big hit with a song called “Meant To Live.” The main refrain goes, “We were meant to live for so much more…but we lost ourselves.” It’s the kind of crunchy, guitar-driven alt-rock that I’ve always had a soft spot for, and with intelligent lyrics, this is a song that gets a thumbs-up from me.
Switchfoot gets lumped alongside a host of other bands considered “Christian.” They prefer not to be assigned to that category, as it limits their audience, at least that’s what one of their founding members, Jon Foreman, has explained to interviewer.
I like what I think the song is trying to say about our lives.
I picked up a book by John Maxwell, Leadership 101: What Every Leader Needs to Know, at a used book store in Bath, back in January. It’s been sitting on my table, unread. I just started reading it. It will be a quick read, but I can already see that it will yield dividends.
I also learned that Maxwell has a fan (and a friend) in Rush Limbaugh.
I have a part-time job as a funeral attendant. One of my roles is night-time removals. That means I go out to a residence, nursing home, or hospice, and “remove” the deceased. I also work occasional visitations at the funeral home, as well as funerals.
Not the most glamorous-sounding work, I know. Death and life exist as polarities.
Actually, I’m finding the funeral industry to be an intriguing one. I’ve thought often over the past three months that perhaps I missed my calling as a funeral director.
As work goes, this fits the bill as an honest kind.