I received an email today that included within it a link to a video about a guy in Texas and his dog, Skidboot. I could summarize what you’re about to see, but truly, I couldn’t do it justice. Instead, just take a look for yourself.
I promise you won’t be disappointed.
Char was in the car with all the kids yesterday, and they happened to stop next to Aunt Karen’s car to exchange some Irish Fest tickets.
As Karen was leaving, Jack asked, “Mom, can I go with Aunt Karen? I could use a little alone time.”
I came across a blog today that you should see. It’s called “My Father’s Hand,” and it’s a collection of drawings that were made over the years by Amanda Wray’s father, a retired serviceman who now suffers from Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. She has added commentary to each, offering insight both into the drawings and the personality of the man who made them.
To me, it seems as if the process is opening doors for her to get to know, understand, and love her father even more. I highly recommend you stop by today…
Parents, beware. If you’re even remotely aware of the dark twisting nether of emotions coursing through you, feel free to move on. If, on the other hand, you don’t mind the occasional tug on your heart, by all means don’t miss this…
I was driving to work today and caught the end of Garrison Keillor’s Writer’s Almanac. Today’s poem was called “Little Sisters” and is told from the perspective of a birthday celebration for the one surviving girl of three.
It begins:
This birthday I have reached the age
where my mother bore
the last of her dead daughters—
one that was whisked away
before its first clean cry
could scour the naked room, the later two
a blue that refused to brighten.
and ends:
I reach for her hand and hold it,
but there are spaces here,
tender lacunae we cannot fold away.
Still somewhere the hand-stitched garments,
the gingham quilts, the counting game.
Still the soot-smudged corner
where I crouched beneath the stovepipe
and fingered like a rosary
the small pebbles of their names.
A truly remarkable piece of writing. Read it today and say a prayer for parents and children everywhere who have lost a child, a friend, a little sister or brother.
[Read “Little Sisters”]
[Listen to Garrison read “Little Sisters”]
Is there any stronger marketing message than a testimonial? Probably not. Companies like Angie’s List and organizations like the Word of Mouth Marketing Association will tell you that testimonials are peerless. If a couple of Indianapolis residents have their way, cities like ours may soon agree.
A few months ago, Pat Coyle, Director of Database Marketing for the Indianapolis Colts, read with interest an article in the IBJ about the recent branding efforts being undertaken by several groups across the city. The idea was to pool their resources, focus on one branding concept, and get a better response by having all of the groups singing the same tune. At the time of the article, the group had just rejected “The New Midwest” as a possible candidate and had retreated to the drawing board to come up with something new.