“Never have children, only grandchildren.” — Gore Vidal

Working from home has some advantages, mainly omitting the commuting time and saving wear and tear on your vehicle.

When you consider how many ways we have to do ourselves in — falls, cuts, crashes, etc. — I’m amazed we mostly make it through the day.

When I write these columns, dear reader, I try to find topics that I think will be of general interest in the community that this wonderful newspaper serves.

As I begin my seventh decade, it occurs to me I must be doing something right to make it this far (though you wouldn’t necessarily know that by just looking at me, haha).

On days when I telecommute from my home due to the coronavirus, I sit in my first-floor office, with the computer on the right and a window facing the street on the left.

The other day — Saturday, Dec. 19, 2020, in fact — I woke up dead. I knew I was dead because it was way past when I normally get up and I couldn’t feel or sense anything as I lay there in bed.

One of the most famous Old Testament stories is that of the Tower of Babel. It goes like this: After the Great Flood, all people spoke the same language.

When I was growing up, my family would often visit relatives or host relatives.

If you’ve been following me lately, you know that, after a lifetime of being a music-loving non-musician, I’ve started learning to play the guitar.