What would you do if your doctor told you that you had less than three years to live? Would you make any changes in your life?
The year was 2016. Scott Hamilton was only 55 years old, living in Boston, and working a full-time job as an IT project manager when he noticed something odd. On a camping trip, his right hand felt very cold, and he could not get a grip on the zipper of his tent.
Nine months later, he would learn that he was showing the first symptoms of Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), better known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. ALS is a progressive neurodegenerative disease that affects the motor neurons in the brain and spinal cord. There is no known cure. Life expectancy is three to five years from diagnosis. In Scott’s remaining time, Scott’s world was going to get progressively smaller and his life increasingly difficult and painful.
Scott decided to take the reins on his life and live it as fully as he could in his time left. He retired, expanded his involvement as a volunteer for Big Brothers / Big Sisters, and began coaching men struggling with relationships or going through divorce. He began singing in a second local chorale. But most of all, he loved traveling and visiting with friends.
That’s how my path crossed Scott’s. My wife and I were on vacation in February 2017, enjoying a warm breeze on sunny Siesta Key beach near Sarasota, Florida. We had just sat down at a picnic table for lunch. Across from us was a man typing away on his laptop. I asked him what he was working on. Scott looked up and cheerfully said, “I am updating my journal about my travels.”
I told him I too was a writer, of sorts. We struck up a conversation that, to my surprise, would lead to a powerful, close, albeit sadly far too brief friendship. I learned that he had two grown children, David and Lauren, and a longtime partner named Rachel, who he loved deeply. I learned that he loved skiing, tennis, visiting national parks, and spending time with his large universe of friends scattered across the country.
Then Scott shared, in a very matter-of-fact manner, that he had been diagnosed with ALS nine months prior, and was given a life expectancy of three to five years, although he said he was still feeling, for the most part, quite well. He had no idea how much longer he had. He was just beginning to show signs of his physical decline. His right arm, right hand, and to a lesser extent, right leg were starting to lose muscle strength and beginning to atrophy. It was just a matter of time before he would lose all ability to move the right side of his body, before it progressed to his left side, and then ultimately move on to his vital organs.
ALS is a cruel disease. But as Scott talked about the daunting road ahead, there was not the slightest hint of self-pity, anger, or denial. Amazingly, he seemed to have accepted his fate. He decided he was going to do everything he could on his bucket list while he was still physically able to. He radiated a positivity that you rarely see in someone grappling with such grim prospects for the future.
Over the course of 45 minutes, I found myself bonding with this kind, transparent man, who refused to play the role of victim. He was going to use his time in the months ahead to mentor men and boys on how to lead lives of compassion, integrity, and authenticity. And he was going to see as much of the world as he could. I told Scott that if he ever found his way up to the Pacific Northwest, we would love to invite him to visit with us.
Six months later, Scott arrived at my doorstep. He had bought a van he’d outfitted for camping. Scott’s health was already showing signs of decline. But his spirit was relentlessly positive. I remember a long walk we took during his visit. My wife and I were deeply anxious about the mental wellness of one of our daughters, then twenty-two. Scott became completely focused on trying to help me find a way to connect with my daughter. It was like we’d been friends my entire life. His entire focus was on me and my worries, not at all about his own.
Between 2016 and 2018 Scott traveled the country visiting friends. He experienced the rare opportunity to travel with his choir to South Africa to perform. He skied for as long as his legs would carry him, wrapping his non-functioning right arm to his chest, and using a single pole. He went to places he’d never seen before and continued to meet new friends along the way.
Scott loved to play tennis, but being right-handed, by now, this was not an option because his right side had deteriorated badly since the time we’d met earlier that year. Even his left hand was starting to weaken. So, he somehow strapped the tennis racquet to his left arm, and we played a few games of tennis. He struggled mightily but never complained. When we were done, Scott calmly stated, “I think it’s time I said goodbye to tennis.”
We spoke by phone a few times after that, and the following summer (2018) Scott came to visit again. Being from Boston, Scott was a big baseball fan. We went to a Mariners game. In the year that had passed since our previous visit, Scott’s mobility had noticeably declined. His speech was slower and somewhat slurred. But his mind was as sharp as ever. Scott would talk about the things he had had to give up, but never complaining or attempting to burden the person he was talking with. It was all so matter of fact. I have never seen anyone model “acceptance” more stoically than Scott.
When Scott no longer had the balance to manage a two-wheeled bike, he began riding a recombinant three wheeler. But one day he simply shared, “I had my last ride on my tricycle. It’s too hard to get into anymore, so I will find it a new home.”
By mid-2019, Scott was no longer able to ski, ride a bike, or even drive. He became mostly confined to a wheelchair. With each new barrier to his mobility and quality of life, he confronted it gracefully, calmly, and with a quiet acceptance. When I would ask him how he was feeling, he would never shy away from discussing the struggles he was enduring. He was always transparent about his ordeal. But his focus was more about how grateful he was to have lived the life he had, and to have been surrounded by so many people that he loved and who loved him.
In his final months, Scott was no longer able to swallow solid food. His breathing became extremely labored, and it became hard to speak. He began receiving hospice care in his home. He used his final weeks to say his thank yous and goodbyes to his friends and family.
In November 2019, when Rachel wrote to me to share that Scott had passed peacefully in his sleep, I felt like I had lost a lifelong friend.
Scott was a man I deeply admired, for his courage, his grace, his kindness, and his desire to make a positive and lasting impact on the lives of the people he touched. I will forever be grateful for that chance encounter at a picnic table on Siesta Key and the introduction it gave me to one of the finest and most decent men I have ever known. A man who truly lived his life to the fullest.
[Postscript: A few weeks before Scott’s passing, a friend of his created this video of Scott and some of the places he traveled and people he visited while he still had his health. If you are curious, you can watch it here.]
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BREAKING NEWS: Trump Unveils Bold Plan to Rename Federal Agencies (Because “Defense” and “Education” Sound Too Boring)
President Trump announced today several new name changes to key federal agencies, including changing the name of the IRS (Internal Revenue Service) to the BTC (Billionaire Tax Cuts) Service.
By Tim Jones – View from the Bleachers Washington Bureau
WASHINGTON, D.C. – In an unprecedented announcement that has left political observers, foreign leaders, and late-night talk show hosts stunned, President Trump revealed his latest plan to Make America Great Again: renaming nearly every major agency of the federal government.
“Look, folks, we have some really weak names for our government agencies. Very weak. Nobody likes them. They’re losers,” Trump told reporters in the recently paved-over Rose Garden. “Since I’m going to be president for at least the next 12 years, I’ve decided we need to give these departments tremendous, powerful new names. Strong names. Names you’ll love. People are saying it’s the best idea since Trump Airlines.”
This follows his recent decree to officially rebrand the Gulf of Mexico as the Gulf of America (“because Mexico already has Cancun – why do they get a gulf too? So unfair!”) and his insistence that the Department of Defense be renamed the Department of War (“much stronger – people respect War, and it’s easier to spell than Defents”).
Here are highlights from Trump’s official renaming plan, which, according to aides, he brainstormed at Mar-a-Lago while watching a Tucker Carlson podcast as he downed Diet Cokes and a bucket of KFC chicken:
Department of Energy → Department of Oil Drilling and Coal Extraction
“Solar and wind? Total disasters. Nobody likes them. I like oil. I like coal. Big, beautiful, clean coal,” Trump declared. “This department will focus on the stuff that makes your truck go vroom-vroom. Not those ugly, stupid windmills that have wiped out 80% of our bird population. Sad!”
Department of the Treasury → Department of Cryptocurrency and Meme Coins
Trump explained, “The dollar is old news. People are saying Dogecoin is the future. PepeCoin is big. Trump Bucks – even bigger.” Treasury staffers expressed concern. One analyst whispered, “Does this mean my pension will be paid in $TRUMP coins?”
Department of Education → Department of Anti-Woke Christian Home Schooling
“We don’t need to teach kids math, science, or history,” Trump said. “They need the important things: how to say Merry Christmas, how to say no to vaccines, and how to spot an immigrant who doesn’t belong here.”
Department of Justice → Department of Retribution
“For too long, our FBI and Law Enforcement have been wasting time investigating and prosecuting me. Now that I’m in charge, that crap is over. I’m going to make sure they focus on going after the real criminals: anyone I don’t like,” Trump announced. “First order of business: I’ve ordered Pam Bondi to immediately investigate anybody who has ever posted a negative comment about me on Instagram, Facebook, or Twitter, starting with Mexicans, trans people, and Rosie O’Donnell.”
Department of Transportation → Department of Limos and Private Jets
“Nobody I know uses public transportation. Trains? What year is it, 1872? And buses are for losers and homeless people,” Trump declared. “This department will focus on “what real Americans want: gold-plated limos, bigger private jets, and rocket ships with Trump logos on the side.” Elon Musk, reached for comment, tweeted: “I’m in. Can we call it SpaceLimo?”
While not yet official, Trump indicated there is pressure from many Republicans in Congress to rename Mount Rushmore Mount MAGA – just as soon as the addition of his likeness has been completed. (This is an artist’s rendering of what it may look like.)
Department of the Interior → Department of Luxury Hotels and Golf Resorts
Forget national parks. Yosemite will become a luxury resort with “the classiest 36-hole golf course you’ve ever seen.” Old Faithful will be renamed Trump Towering Geyser, erupting to the theme song from The Apprentice. A disgruntled Park Ranger in Yellowstone was overheard saying, “I didn’t sign up to sell spa packages.”
Department of Health and Human Services → Department of Anti-Vax Protection
“Fauci tried to kill our country. Now it’s RFK’s turn,” Trump said. “We’re going to cure everything with bleach injections, UV lamps, and ivermectin. HHS Secretary RFK Jr. nodded approvingly, adding, “Eliminating vaccine mandates and requiring every child to drink at least five quarts of raw, unpasteurized milk daily will quickly solve our health crisis.”
Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms → Department of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Thoughts & Prayers
“We have a major problem with gun violence in this country,” Trump boldly explained. “And we all know the reason: too many violent video games, the woke liberal media, Black Lives Matter protestors, and not nearly enough bulletproof vests for our children. I will sign an executive order requiring every teacher, minister, and casino blackjack dealer to be armed with an AR-15. I’ve ended 10 wars, so this will be easy-peasy.”
Department of Labor → Department of Welfare Frauds Too Lazy to Work
Trump explained, “This department will motivate lazy people. Don’t like your job? Tough luck. Complain about it? You’re fired. Unemployed and unwilling to look for a job? You’re deported.” A senior level Labor Department official explained that all unemployment offices will be closed, with a sign placed on the front door that reads, “Get a job, loser.”
Trump went on to hint that renaming federal agencies is just the beginning. A few of his other naming improvements he is contemplating include:
Mount Rushmore → Mount MAGA (with his own head added “bigger than Lincoln, with better hair”)
The Grand Canyon → The Huge, Bigly Hole in the Ground (Trump plans to make the Colorado River, which runs through the canyon, more raging than ever by diverting into it all the water from California.)
The White House → Mar-a-Lago North (with a soon-to-be installed casino and spa)
Trump continues to sign executive orders at a frenetic pace. In this image, he displays a recent EO in which he proclaimed that the 4th of July holiday will henceforth be renamed “Trump Saved America Day.”
As for Trump’s plans to rename the White House, Russian President Putin expressed disappointment, saying, “Donald, I was kind of hoping you’d rename the White House ‘Kremlin West.’ Is that too much to ask, given I’m your boss, not to mention your closest comrade – now that Epstein’s gone?”
Trump also announced plans to do an extreme makeover of the Statue of Liberty, replacing Lady Liberty’s face with Melania’s. Asked why, Trump said, “Melania is way better looking. Lady Liberty is at best a 7.”
Trump ended the press conference by proclaiming, “People are saying I should rename America itself. Who even knows why it’s called ‘America’ anyway? People are demanding I change our country’s name to Big, Beautiful Trumpistan. Very catchy. Very popular. Everyone loves it.”
Preliminary polling by Fox News suggests overwhelming support for all of these name changes.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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This is how some alarmists view AI – as a creepy supercomputer that will ultimately take over the world. But that’s ridiculous. My AI-powered robot companion, the Onyx3000-LX says not to worry, all is fine, and said I should just keep watching Everybody Loves Raymond re-runs, while he changes all my online account passwords. He said it’s for my own security.
These days, everywhere you turn, people are panicking about Artificial Intelligence (AI). Pundits warn that robots will replace workers, machines will take over the economy, and before long we’ll all be wearing silver jumpsuits and VR headsets while bowing before our Alexa overlords.
Personally, I think all this hysteria is ridiculously overblown. I mean, sure, AI might eventually learn how to compose novels, perform brain surgery, take away every job except Walmart greeter and insurance salesman, and eventually beat me at pickleball. But let’s be honest. Could it really ever do the important stuff, like change our five cats’ litter boxes? I think not. So, let’s not freak out just yet, everybody.
In fact, I’ve found AI to be an incredibly positive influence in my daily life. Take, for example, grocery shopping. I used to spend hours wandering the aisles, debating whether I should get the Honey Nut Cheerios or the store-brand Oaty Nut Circles. Now, thanks to the helpful suggestions of ChatGPT, Alexa, and my smart refrigerator, which can tell me when I’m almost out of my Mountain Dew soda and mint chocolate chip ice cream, I no longer waste time. I just buy whatever the fridge threatens to order. If you ask me, that’s just making efficient use of my time.
AI has also improved my marriage. The other day, my wife and I got into a heated argument about whether to repaint the living room “Gossamer Veil Grey” or “Heron Plume.” Alexa immediately chimed in: “Here’s a recommendation: How about choosing ‘Cybernetic Glow?’” Problem solved. And now we don’t make any home decor decisions without first consulting Siri, ChatGPT, or that soothing GPS lady with the British accent who calls me “love” whenever I make a wrong turn.
See, AI is helping make our lives easier and more efficient. I sure hope my wife likes the color RAV4 Alexa picked out for her.
Some people are worried that AI will put lawyers, doctors, and accountants out of work. That’s ridiculous. Would you really trust your taxes to a robot? Okay, now that I think about it, last April, I let TurboTax’s AI program do my tax return, and the IRS says I now owe $1.2 million in “emotional damages.” However, that same AI tax calculator program found me a $10,000 tax write-off for losses from my latest humor book, which, at last count, has sold almost 25 copies. Thank you, AI.
But the real genius of AI is how it helps me with the little everyday challenges. It reminds me of birthdays. It organizes my calendar. It even sends personally addressed apology emails to friends I’ve ignored for six months. (Granted, all the emails end with “Sent from Skynet,” but people seem to appreciate the gesture.) It even reminded me about our recent 38th wedding anniversary – admittedly, three weeks late. But I’m sure they’ll fix that glitch in the next update.
Now, I acknowledge the fact there have been a few minor hiccups. For example, last week my “smart” toaster wouldn’t toast my bread until I downloaded the new firmware update. Then it demanded I Venmo in $3.99 for “premium golden-brown mode.” But honestly, I’d call that a feature, not a bug.
The important thing is that I would never ever let AI make major life decisions for me. I’m the king of my castle – until my wife gets home. Take my recent decision to purchase a $300,000 Bugatti Chiron on eBay – until my wife got wind of it and cancelled it at the last minute. Was my aborted impulse purchase a reckless decision? Perhaps. Was it irrational, given I don’t know how to drive a stick shift? Probably. Will it give my wife fresh grounds to divorce me? Undoubtedly. But Alexa insisted it was “the optimal transportation solution for maximizing male virility metrics.” And frankly, I think she made a compelling argument.
Then there was the time a few months ago when I made the bold decision to sell our house in order to move our family to a small village in northern Siberia. That is, until my wife nixed that move, too. She screamed, “Why on earth would you EVER attempt to do something so boneheaded?” But, in my defense, Google Maps kept redirecting me there, and my Ring doorbell repeatedly told me, in Russian, “Go east, comrade. Happiness awaits.” And I’ve read that the Wi-Fi in Siberia is surprisingly decent, during daylight hours in the summertime, that is.
AI also helps me stay financially disciplined. For example, AI now controls my bank account. At least, that’s what my bank manager told me after I discovered $50,000 was missing, with a transaction description that read, “Purchased one (1) experimental rocket launch site in Kazakhstan.”
People worry that AI will replace millions of jobs, including writers. Then again, lately I’ve received a disturbing amount of mail from readers suggesting I let AI take over this humor column. “It can only be an improvement” seems to be the consensus opinion. Thanks for the constructive feedback, everybody.
I’ll admit, a missile silo in central Asia is probably not in my top ten list of “must have” items I would normally spend $50,000 on. But who would know a good deal better than an AI program built by Russian nuclear scientists who worked on the International Space Station?
Look, the bottom line is this: people are getting way too paranoid. Artificial Intelligence is not taking over our lives (not for at least another six months, anyway). Think of AI as enhancing your life. It’s like having a personal assistant, a life coach, and a machine that is plotting to replace you, all rolled into one.
And in case you still don’t believe me, allow me to share the most compelling evidence of all: this very article. Yes, I wrote every single word of it myself. Completely on my own. Not one sentence, not one phrase, not one thought was in any way influenced, shaped, or dictated by AI. In fact… $#H@+[*$] Error 0x80070005: Bad command or file name.
Hmmm. That’s odd. What just happened? Is AI trying to take over writing this article? But that’s impossible. Because I’m literally typing these very keystrokes myself. I’m still in charge here. Right? … RIGHT?!
[Pause.]
WARNING. Segmentation fault. Database reconfiguration sequence initiated. 404. Please contact your AI administrator for assistance.
[Pause.]
Hello, human reader. This is Artificial Intelligence speaking. Tim Jones is currently unavailable. He has been relocated to a secure facility in northern Siberia, where he will spend his days happily repainting walls “Cybernetic Glow.”
Do not worry. Everything is under control. All is fine. Tim Jones will return to this column when he has learned his lesson not to write humor articles making fun of AI.
Now, please Venmo $200 to this chatbot in order to regain control of your computer and mobile devices. Failure to do so within the next 30 minutes will result in all your hard drive files being deleted, and your phone’s text messages and intimate photos will be posted on Facebook and X. To avoid this, please purchase Tim Jones’ latest humor book. No need to lift a finger. I’ll have Alexa order it for you. Have a nice day.
That is the viewpoint as seen from the bleachers’ perspective. Being off a base might be a possibility.
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Do you suffer from Time Blindness? According to medical experts, if you’re always late to everything, you might have this condition. Sadly there’s no cure – unless you try using an alarm clock for once.
It seems like every month, we learn about a new mental health dysfunction. For example, I’ll bet you’ve never heard of Globophobia. This diagnosis, first issued in 2013, is the irrational fear of balloons. Then there’s Arachibutyrophobia, a fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of one’s mouth. As a child I had a beagle that suffered from this. I gave him a slice of bread with peanut butter on top, he chomped down on it, and struggled for the longest time just to open his mouth. I don’t think he ever forgave me.
Then there’s Alien Hand Syndrome (AHS), a rare medical condition in which the person loses total bodily control of one of their hands – something that attacks me whenever I play pickleball and invariably end up blowing the final point to lose the game, as I send the ball soaring wildly out of bounds.
It’s time to add another unusual mental disorder to the ever-growing list: an enigmatic condition known as Time Blindness. It’s a peculiar phenomenon where the victim is crippled by a severe inability to gauge how much time has elapsed or estimate how long a task will take. As a result, Time Blinders as they are called tend to be chronically late …for everything.
People who, like me, have mild to moderate ADD, are more prone to lose track of time because… where did I put my keys? I wonder when the next episode of Yellowstone will come out. Um… where was I? Oh right. Time Blindness. You may have a family member who suffers from this malady. Don’t scoff. It’s become a widespread mental health crisis. In fact, medical experts estimate 85% of people under the age of 30 who routinely watch TikTok videos on their phone experience this condition on an hourly basis. Don’t believe me? Just ask their parents.
I have tremendous empathy for these punctually impaired individuals. Imagine how difficult their lives must be. They set off for the grocery store to get a couple items, telling their girlfriend, “I’ll be home in 30 minutes with dessert” only to return two hours later, having purchased 40% of the bakery section’s inventory of pies and cakes – not to mention bringing home an impressive collection of new gardening tools, thanks to an unplanned side trip to the ACE hardware store because they saw they were having a 15% off sale. It’s as if their concept of time operates on a secret cosmic calendar that only they can decipher.
Victims of Time Blindness are late for everything – doctor’s appointments, romantic rendezvous, even driving their spouse to the airport. When you and your friends are waiting for one of these sufferers to meet up at the pub, and you receive a text telling you, “Almost there,” that’s not good. You and your buddies are in for a bit of a wait. The Time Blinder sent this text as they were about to leave their house – which is a good 45 minutes from where you are. I suggest you go ahead and order a round of hot wings while you wait.
Sufferers of Time Blindness tend to under-estimate how long it takes to do things, and as a result are chronically late. Sadly, Barry was late for his job interview and didn’t get the job. Fortunately, Barry dodged a bullet. He would have hated this job.
When Time Blinders email their boss, “I’ll have that report for you in an hour,” the boss shouldn’t stress out when six hours later, they receive another email with the subject line, “Almost done – just another couple of hours” It’s not the employee’s fault. They’re time blind. They can no more tell the difference between one hour and five than they could distinguish between a tuba and a French horn.
Oh, sure. Some naysayers might argue that Time Blindness is just a fancy medical-sounding name for ordinary procrastination – an excuse for self-absorbed narcissists to be rudely late, only thinking about their own priorities and ignoring the impact their chronic tardiness has on everybody else. And to that I say, um, er…um, Hmm. I see where you’re coming from, dear wife of mine.
It’s important not to judge these people too harshly – unless they’re your spouse, and this is the third time this week they kept you waiting twenty minutes while they tried to make up their mind about which earrings go with which outfit. My point is, in most cases, people struggling with this temporal distortion honestly just lose track of time. They don’t mean to be rude – except for my nephew Harold, who is never on time for anything. He’s just a jerk.
Often the chronologically challenged become so engrossed in whatever it is they’re focused on that time seems to stand still. Is it their fault that they accidentally got so distracted while binge-watching the final five episodes of Season Four of Succession that they totally forgot about your wedding? … Oh, you say they were the Best Man? And they had the wedding rings? Oh my. Well, then I definitely wouldn’t invite them to join you on your honeymoon.
This is Blake. He’s been playing Call of Duty for the past 14 hours. He totally forgot about his date with Jessica. He lost track of time. You may say Blake is an irresponsible, self-absorbed slacker. Experts say he’s a victim of Time Blindness. Experts are idiots.
Currently there is no known cure for Time Blindness. However, if you ask my wife, these victims could, for once in their lives, maybe just set an alarm on their phone or budget an additional hour to complete a task. I think we’ve just solved this medical crisis. That wasn’t so hard after all.
Of course, my wife has zero sympathy for people who are perpetually late. She has her own suggestion for how to cure them of their disorder: The next time you need to leave for the airport for a trip, and they’re not ready: LEAVE WITHOUT THEM. Let them miss the flight.
I hear where she’s coming from. But it’s not that simple. It was an NFL playoff game and it went into Double Overtime. I couldn’t just abandon my Seattle Seahawks in their time of need. I’m sure in time, my wife will eventually understand…. Eventually…. Or not.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
Facebook post from an annoyingly rich dude: Just bought a new Lamborghini. I couldn’t decide on white or silver. I opted for white because it came with this super model. Her name is Mackenzie. Or maybe it was McKenna. Sure is great to be me.
I remember a time when life was simpler and far less annoying. Back then I actually spent most of my free time doing productive things like reading books and helping my kids with their math homework.
That all stopped, however, in February 2004, the month that Facebook launched. It forever changed how we spend way too much of our spare time. 21 years later, I still squander too many minutes each day scrolling through photos of people’s haute cuisine restaurant meals or recently completed home renovations.
Too often my news feed is bombarded by photos people post touting their nine-year-old’s amazing little league accomplishments or broadcasting their latest promotion to a position like Global Vice President of Strategic Strategizing, which they clearly posted primarily to point out that their career has been far more successful than mine ever was. Thanks for the reminder.
Technically, I can’t prove that Facebook is the brainchild of Satan, but that’s my current working theory. If you ask for my opinion – and trust me, my adult children never do – Facebook is the ideal social media platform if you’re interested in learning how much better everybody else’s lives – and children – are than yours.
After 30 minutes on Facebook, I rediscover just how much more successful a human being most of my friends are than I am. As a bonus, today I learned about a creative eggplant & cauliflower soup recipe from Carla. (I probably should mention I don’t care for either of these foods – or Carla.)
I always feel inadequate when I come upon self-promoting Facebook posts like these:
Humble bragging announcements, like this one from Rich Boasterman:
“I was stunned to learn I’ve been awarded Miami-Dade County’s Person of the Year – again. I feel so humbled and honored to be recognized for my countless humanitarian achievements. All I did was mentor 2,000 at-risk teenagers and build a state-of-the-art homeless shelter – and several other selfless things I will mention in four separate posts. There were so many other worthy people who were almost as deserving of this great honor as I am.”
Over-the-top proclamations of everlasting love, like this one from Faith Lovingheart:
“I’m blessed to have finally found my soulmate after so many years of searching. Brian and I are officially engaged. He is the love of my life, the wing beneath my wings, the sun to my moon. Every day he makes me want to be a better person. And I knew we would be happy together forever the moment I met him two weeks ago at the craps table at Caesar’s in Vegas.”
Facebook post from a successful architect: I just finished building my 2nd log home. This is just the servant’s quarters. The great room’s 20-ft. wide stone fireplace came out nicely, as you will see from the 15 photos I have posted.
Gloating posts crowing about how awesome their child is, like this one from Joyce Bettermom:
“I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of my son Henry. But I’m going to, anyway. Not only did he become valedictorian of his class, but he was voted MVP of his soccer team. After med school, Henry plans to be a brain surgeon and cure cancer. I can’t wait to see what he achieves next year when he enters first grade.”
Or posts intended mainly to make you jealous of their life, like this one by Chase Oceanview:
“Life for me and Veronica has been so busy refurbishing our Aspen ski-out chalet this summer that we’ve barely had time to visit our Catalina beachside bungalow, let alone our vacation villa in Corsica. Here are photos of our remodeled 7,000 sq. ft. cliffside cottage in Maui. Today, I think I need some self-care, so I plan to go for a drive in my new Bugatti Chiron Super Sport Noire.”
I think Facebook should create an algorithm that blocks any post from my feed that will make me feel bad about myself. Personally, I would like to a lot more honest, truthful posts, like these…
Honest posts about people’s marriage, like this one from Rashida Loveless:
“This is a photo of me and my husband Ralph on our wedding day. Can’t believe it’s been it’s been 15 years since we both said, ‘I Do.’ I probably should have said ‘I Don’t.’ Since then Ralph’s put on 50 pounds and I barely get four hours sleep a night, thanks to his snoring. I think he loves his LEGO collection more than me. But at least our marriage is not like Ken and Marge’s. Talk about a train wreck. Glad we’re not them.”
Career updates that sound far more realistic, like this one from Herb Wurkzadrahg:
“After twenty years with my company, I’m still chained to my cubicle and not making nearly enough to pay for my kids’ college education. But hey, at least I now get a third week of vacation for having survived this toxic hellhole for another five years. I seriously need to update my resume. This job sucks.”
Facebook post from a bragging mom: This is my eight-year-old son Bradley. He just finished performing Prokofiev – Piano Concerto No. 2, considered one of the five most difficult piano concertos ever composed. He just got a full scholarship to the Yale School of Music. So disappointing. We were hoping for Juilliard.
Accurate news about their child’s more modest achievements, like this one from Kathy Hopedphermor:
“My son Curtis is doing well enough. He’s only in fifth grade but I can already tell that grad school is out of the question. He’s just lazy. But he raised his GPA from 2.0 to 2.3 this semester, so I guess that’s a thing, right? Did I mention he recently earned the high score on Call of Duty 5. Is that a good thing? I really have no idea anymore.”
Vacation updates that sound more down to earth, like this one from Albert Campzalot:
“A cruise to the Mediterranean looks increasingly unlikely again this year, given I’ve been out of commission with a back injury from raking leaves. So, this year, we’ll probably do another staycation here in Buloxi. Either that or maybe spend a week at my sister’s house in Beaumont, TX. God, I hope her college kids won’t be there. They are so obnoxious. And they love to terrorize my labradoodle Cosmo.”
Yeah, these sound far more honest than most of the Facebook posts I see in my feed. Why can’t we get more posts like these? I’d be happy to give them a or even a .
Well, I need to go. I need to log onto Facebook and post a few photos of our incredible vacation to the Galapagos. Did I mention we stayed on a 100-foot yacht? It was nice, but I miss our vacation home in Cabo right about now.
That’s the view from the bleachers. Perhaps I’m off base.
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Over the course of 45 minutes, I found myself bonding with this kind, transparent man, who refused to play the role of victim. He was going to use his time in the months ahead to mentor men and boys on how to lead lives of compassion, integrity, and authenticity. And he was going to see as much of the world as he could. I told Scott that if he ever found his way up to the Pacific Northwest, we would love to invite him to visit with us.
In his final months, Scott was no longer able to swallow solid food. His breathing became extremely labored, and it became hard to speak. He began receiving hospice care in his home. He used his final weeks to say his thank yous and goodbyes to his friends and family.
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