I first published this in 2016, a month before Trump was elected the first time. His politics of panic, exploitation, and fear mongering are now a part of our every day.

First, there was Thomas Edison. Then Nikola Tesla. Now, Atom Power.

A scientist, a designer, and an olfactory artist have teamed up to resurrect the smell of extinct flowers.

Some people get outside for fun. Others do it out of necessity. I feel a special kinship with those who show flickers of this always-burning furnace in their movements and deeds. Larry is one of them.

“We’re trying to take small steps that we can achieve,” says Buck, after taking a few laps around the Field Loop at Rikert last week. “And those small steps can build into a program that will be recognized.

This is social-emotional learning in action.

To understand what you think, you need to understand what you know, which leads to what you don’t know. This is where the metacognitive “path to understanding” begins.

Many assume that introverts have less to offer than extroverts. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I’m stronger now than I was two decades ago, and more confident, too. That’s a funny thing about the practice: You lose your way in time. Try to guess a yogi’s age and you’ll probably be wrong.

I have come to the following conclusion about resilience in the face of ruinous bullshit....

This year feels different. It’s the beginning of everything that comes next. It’s the year we’ll decide whether to hang onto the place, though I’m not sure we can. With Dad gone, it feels like we’re already letting go.

We’ve been fighting for a long time, of course, and we will continue to fight until a woman no longer shoulders the blame for a man’s reprehensible behavior.

Expendable income is nonexistent these days. Even for tooth-loss. Because everyone knows lost teeth require quarters from the Tooth Fairy, and I just spent my last two on eggs.

You’ve got to admit that nothing douses a spontaneity high like someone questioning your reason.

We’d been dealt a good neighbor hand. On a quiet gravel road in rural Vermont, this is a huge bonus.…

Holy crap, I can’t believe it’s the last week of school!! What a shitty spring we’ve had. About damn time summer showed up.

Places like these – especially the highly anticipated, rarely visited ones – have a knack for making us contemplative.

Every so often, my son steps out of his first-person-singular mindset and talks like the Lorax. Except instead of speaking for the trees, he speaks for kids.

It’s a strange thing to flip through monochromatic sections of your torso like an anatomical deck of cards.

“All of us have special ones who have loved us into being.”

My father died last year, on April 1st. He’s the sort of guy who would’ve had something funny to say about that. Something along the lines of “Well, folks, I guess the joke’s on me,” or “Hey, quit crying! It’s April Fool’s Day!”

The only reason I feel remotely qualified to write any of the following is because I have been a dipshit parent. On so many occasions.

When friends new to marriage ask for advice, I often say this: “When in doubt, have sex.” I believe it, too.

After two decades of a career that fit the “grownup” bill, I’ve finally figured out how not to box myself in. I’ve cast off the old reliable shoulds and plunged headlong into the unpredictable what-ifs and why-the-hell-nots.

I think it’s safe to say that sex is an important part of any healthy marriage, and that it’s worth you and your spouse going out of your way to make sure it happens often.