Sure death awaited me in the abyss. Immobilized by fear, my feet were stones. My nine-year old instincts warned me: water beneath Camp Hilltop’s swim dock would rush into my head as gravity dragged me to its three-foot bottom. I stood petrified on NO.
It was silly then. It’s even sillier now. Because, even today I occasionally allow NO to keep me high and dry from new ideas, opportunities, or adventures. Confession is good for the soul. That’s why this is my first post of the new year. It’s a challenge to me—and you. Continue Reading
Ask anyone over 55 and they’ll recall with crystal clarity the moment Neil Armstrong spoke those eight words into our generation’s identity. We were changed by NASA’s feat in a way I can’t explain to my children. Their reality naturally includes boot marks on the moon. To those of us who remember, though, seeing it happen made us wish we could be astronauts on a mission. 
