Sunday, November 20, 2016

Missing Mother Nature

Once, when I was very young, my parents took the family on a camping trip. Running through the trees was everything FernGully and Pocahontas promised it would be.

As we gathered around the campfire, my dad announced that he needed to “visit Mother Nature”. An image formed in my brain of an old lady in a wooden cabin full of talking animals—a Snow White version of Mrs. Claus in the very woods where we were going to make s’mores. I immediately insisted on accompanying my dad.

“I want to meet Mother Nature!”

“No, no. I have to visit Mother Nature on my own.”

Upset, yet determined, I began to stealthily follow my dad in the trees parallel to the path. I too would meet the elusive Mother of the Forest.

My dad’s pace quickened, and the terrain became more and more unruly. When I stopped chasing him, and watched him pace out of sight, I sat down in a ditch and cried.

The moral of the story is that sometimes the anticipation of something… No, actually, just explain things properly to your kids.

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Why I wear contacts

The Missing Book

I was visiting my parents the other night in sleepy Los Alamos, and my mom was manically rummaging around the house.

"I just put my book down, and I can't find it anywhere."

"What's it called?"

"It's called Invisible."