Characters

Sweet elixir of life. Precious moment of hope. Promise of a new day dawning. Cleanser of all failures past. Irrevocable blast of joy. Glimmering dream that today may be completely different from all that went before — with no task left undone, no problem unsolved, no challenge unconquered. My daily drive-through is as certain as the rising of the sun and ebb of the tide. I drive through, therefore I am. The rich aroma wafts through the window and washes over me like a hug from Nona. Likewise the cheerful smile from the barista de jour. He/she greets me like I'm a valuable human being — it's part of the job description, sure, but I don't care. I’m fine with it. Today will be better because I circumnavigated this Mecca. My venti-coffee-with-one-ounce-of-cream will accompany me through a 12- or 14-hour day. It will flavor every conversation, every paragraph, every phone call, every meeting. Yes. They know my order before I place it. Yes. It costs WAY too much for &

I'm not ok with it. Not any of it. I had just returned to the newsroom last night to file a quick story before heading home when I got the call: MVA with injuries and entrapment in Farmington. No problem, I thought. I'll dash out and snap a few photos, write a quick summary and be on my way. That's not how it played out. On this night, the deserted country crossroad — usually blanketed in darkness — was lit up like Times Square. Flashing emergency lights from hastily parked trucks were harsh and glaring — they made my eyes burn and my heart beat harder. As pulled over and got out of my van, I knew instantly that this one was going to be different. The rain streamed down and I could see portable spotlights pooling light over two mangled vehicles conjoined in a nearby field. Dozens of first responders circled the mess, forming a barrier. They weren't working, they were waiting — and barely talking. Not a good sign, ever. I paced back and forth slowly for over an hour,

I once had a friend who spent half of her time being super-mom to two teenage boys, and the other half trying to break them of the creeping sense of “entitlement” she saw taking root early on. She noticed in them an almost demanding expectation that they were “due” certain food, designer clothes, taxi service, spending money, privileges, freedoms and quality of life. Their attitude angered her, and she was determined to reshape their thinking, or at least their behavior, in that area. And as much as we shake our heads at people, especially kids, who lack a natural reflex of gratitude or appreciation for the good things they enjoy — there is also an upside to “entitlement.” It’s not always a dirty word. Exhibit A: two-year-old Owen Grefrath, who helped me see that a sense of entitlement can be one of the best legacies we pass on to our children. I first saw Owen in action on a dairy farm, in a huge barn lined on both sides with hundreds of miking cows. He wasn’t much more than