Characters

Today my Starbucks-addicted daughter and her friend strayed into a local Tim Hortons. The two got an unexpected and sweet surprise when they ran into an older couple they had never met before. (A — Why did they stray from Starbucks? and B — What age are they calling "older?" I'm hoping the couple was at least 10 years my senior. It's the only way the story works for me.) The man said he wanted to give them something, and he pulled out these two little shirt shapes made out of dollar bills. He said to them, "Now you will never be broke and will always have a shirt," and told them to dream big. One gesture — Couldn't have taken more than 2 minutes. Cost a total of $2. And now these girls will have 2 tiny momentos tucked in their wallets that will bring a smile to their faces for who knows how long. Each time they see them, they'll remember the day when two people they never met before were kind, and sweet, and gave them something better than

These days I write for a living — a very small living. But every once in awhile I create something pointless and seasonal just to satisfy my eyes which are so tired from squinting at letters on a computer screen... My heart feels better for a short while. Then I get back to business and write about some political squabble, fundraiser, or new housing development going up. Good times.

 An urban ministry that serves young children after school, on weekends and during vacation, this group has NO $$$ for extras. I created this logo and sample web page as an exercise for what cold be done. Wish I could snap my fingers and make it so.

Fun project I got to design some time back - a DVD cover for an original project. Great people, great purpose. Project URGE (Urban Revitalization Got Experienced) — I miss them. Visit www.projecturge.org

Isn’t she beautiful? Actually, she’s not sure she is. She’s worried about keeping up at work, finding the best crib and stroller and car seat, choosing the right diapers and bottles, nursing successfully, grocery shopping, house cleaning, getting the right nutrition, eating enough but not too much, her baby’s health, growing her marriage, minimizing stretch marks, finding a loving day care, paying for college, choosing the right pediatrician, labor, the delivery, forceps, medication, complications, how will she split up holidays between in-laws, do her maternity clothes really fit and will she ever feel beautiful again, will she be a good mom, does she have what it takes… She’s trying to enjoy this private, intimate, once-in-a-lifetime experience with the baby growing inside her and her new husband. But between work and responsibilities and worries, is there really time? My advice to her — forget the rest of the world. This time is for you and your beautiful family

It's been over a year, and I still think of him about once or twice a week, every time I pass Church Street. I wonder how he's doing, if he's well, if he's had his 1972 Pirsch Tiller ladder truck out on the road yet this Spring. I wonder what he's added to his massive collection of fire department memorabilia — any new fire boxes, bells, photos, ledgers, record books? I'd love to spend an hour or two listening to that slow, methodical syncopated drawl tell about his latest acquisitions, and why he finds them fascinating. I truly believe every gem he has found is, to him, one more rescued and adopted child of unique and priceless value. I wonder if his children and grandchildren know what a treasure they've got in him. I wonder if he's got any new projects in the works. I wonder what kind soup is simmering on the stove in his comfortable kitchen — he was cooking up something special for Mrs. Graham when I was there last. I wonder if I'll ev

Lauren Vassello She's got her own identity. She's got her own name, her own job, her own life. But in my mind, she will always be Lauren's mom. And she made me rethink what it means to be a mother. I was struggling last week to write a tribute about her beautiful 13-year-old daughter who, after battling an extremely rare and aggressive form of cancer, passed away. It was just one year ago that the family had been blind-sided with the devastating diagnosis. I called Stephany and clumsily stumbled through a few awkward, shallow questions. I felt like I was trampling on holy ground. Then I said, "tell me about Lauren." For the next hour I did nothing but type and listen. This super-human mom recounted her daughter's journey from the first phone call from the doctor to her final moments in the hospital, reciting every detail with the driven automation of a machine, the precision of a surgeon, and the energy of a tornado. She seemed to be on a mission to ret