Brands aspire to elevate people to a positive emotional state. But the word brand itself is cold, distant, transactional. It’s the people with the logo on their shirt that make or break it. The bright people in the corporate office… Read More ›
Memoir
The Life Transfer
I wasn’t sure I wanted to have kids. It wasn’t one of those things on my list. But when Dawn and I got pregnant and I found out at the bus stop, I felt it inside me too, and I… Read More ›
A Golden Retriever called America
Two grandparents with their daughter and a chunky Golden, with a white beard and a smile in her eyes. They named the dog America, born on 9/11. The grand-daughter wasn’t alive yet. The dog’s 100 in dog years, has lived… Read More ›
What’s true
Sometimes, people will forgive what’s true. Even if it’s not good, not right, it’s true. That’s what comes in to play when you hear music that’s real, it sings of its own accord. It hovers above the Plane of Attachment,… Read More ›
Carried Away
It started with a night running barefoot on the university golf course and hugging a tree for the first time, convinced I could feel its life force swelling from the roots, then ended in the early morning at my new… Read More ›
All’s well that ends as you like it
I acted in college, in a small theater in a small town called Erie, Pennsylvania. The theater was a former barn, and we huddled in tight in a loft upstairs with our make-up and dim light as the voices of… Read More ›
Don’t Stop Believin’
Journey, Aerosmith’s ‘Dream On’: in my forming years of the 70s I latched on to these themes. I watched myself in the mirror, mouthed the words, and dreamed who I could be, with no limits. My kids are at that… Read More ›
The Death Card
My friend was a former Navy SEAL officer, and you would never know it. He was proud of his service, but humble, mild-mannered, polite. We worked together in the office. He drove across the country following a breakup with his… Read More ›
Four years ago today
It hit 103 in Seattle and we got on a plane for Germany, for a three month stay. I wrote my first blog post, featuring a picture of my mom and step-dad and him holding a bottle opener I still… Read More ›
The bright, dark sounds of The Red House Painters
The grass is going brown already, but I won’t water it. I hadn’t laid on it yet, on my back with the dog in the sun, afternoon wine, nothing to do, nowhere to be. Like the August we went to… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 