Walking in Their Shoes

My first boss died a couple of weeks ago. He was a big man when I knew him. He lost weight after I moved away. He lost more with the cancer. While I’ll remember him by his laugh, a deep gut-chuckle, his wife and kids will remember his frailty. I’d trade shoes with them, if I could.


Sorry, sorry, I know I never make it over to ketchup with Mel and Michele, and then when I do, I’m all downer. The truth is, I’m awful at short prompts. I rarely speak in less than a hundred words, and when I do, too much is lost in the translation.… Read the rest