I have a confession to make: I don't know how to read. I've been faking literacy for all these years and I just can't to it any more.
I have another confession to make: That first confession wasn't true. And neither is this one.
If, ladies and gentlemen, you'll look through the tiny windows on the right side of the plane, you'll get a stunning view of the Verizon Grand Canyon, brought to you by Verizon Wireless. Verizon and the Grand Canyon: Two American Treasures.
My mind, this morning, is like a stone skipping across the surface of a quiet pond, thrown by a pensive boy in a hoodie, jeans and sneakers, a boy whose energetic meandering and playful exploration has brought him here to this quiet pond, a new place he has discovered, a place to which he can lay claim. The loneliness of boyhood is so deeply hidden that even boys don't see it in themselves. A boy's soul is tasked by evolutionary forces to walk as quickly as possible away from every other soul and to find in the wilderness a place to stand alone, and then to defend that place from all intruders. Only those invited can approach. Only those welcomed can return again. No one can stay forever. The top of a high hill is a good place. Or a clearing in a grove of trees. Or the bank of a quiet pond, the kind of pond you can send stones skimming over, skipping from expanding ripple to ripple to ripple, like my wandering mind.
Boyhood is brought to you by Citibank. Boyhood and Citibank: It's about growth.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
