• Stuck.

    You notice someone doing something that you think may be unethical. You don’t know the person committing the act very well, but you have no relationship whatsoever to the person who will be adversely effected from this act. Muddying the waters, it appears that this act – while unethical – will result in just ends (in the grand scheme of things). The person committing the act is someone you have to interact with on a regular basis, and you’ve enjoyed working with them, but you are afraid that revealing the act could get the individual in some trouble – or worse.

    So what do you do?

    You could pull the person aside and confront them. That way you may find out if it was intentional deception or just a mistake. You may not find out either way, but things may work out anyway. It turns out the case worked out in spite of our confrontation, in spite of the truth. However, I’m still not sure how much I can trust this individual. At least I can live with myself.

  • Going to the middle east.

    In 1991 I was a college student. My girlfriend at the time was worried about a possible draft, but I was not. There was a war brewing, but I was shamefully carefree. Watching the footage on TV it all seemed so far away, almost abstract. I had no emotional attachment to what I was seeing.

    Last week was different, but why?

    I am twelve years older. I am no longer a college student, and I work for a living. I have a daughter. All of these things change your life, but do they change the person you are? Now the images I see have some meaning, but what did the trick? Is it the different circumstances under which hostilities have begun? Have my circumstances changed my perspective? Is it some combination of the two; or, is it something else entirely? Either way, I can’t say I’m carefree this time around.

  • Going home.

    I haven’t decided if it is better to leave or to be left. Last Friday we were heading home to finish off our trip to New Orleans. I was sitting in our car with Cheryl and Beth, the engine running, everything packed in, mentally preparing to pull out of our parking spot in my sister’s building for one last time. It was a sad moment. Travel can be a bit of an ordeal, but it is a distraction. In that sense, leaving seems to be made easier by the distraction of the task at hand. When you are playing host, and subsequently being left, all you have to look forward to is going back to your normal routine – not nearly so distracting.