I have been asked to write as often on this blog as I can, and I can only do what my readers ask me to. When it becomes a chore, I'll stop the blog. But I am nowhere near this becoming a chore, so don't worry!
But, still, there are nights when I sit down to this computer, this old, gasping, wheezing computer with the 6 gig hard drive and 125 megs of ram, which crashes a couple of times a day, and wonder what I will write about.
(I could write about the tumble I took as I was walking to work this evening, and how my back and neck are causing me pain again, undoing a week's worth of physiotherapy. Hm. I guess I just did.)
But on nights when I am not sure what to discuss here, I'll check out some online newspapers, and sometimes I'll find something there that moves me, inspires me, saddens me.
I found this article in the New York Times. It solves a 75 year-old mystery from Canton, Ohio, a mystery I had never heard of before, one that I daresay most people living in Canton now are unfamiliar with as well, which is a damned shame. This story is obscure enough NOT to have a wikipedia article about it, also a damned shame.
I hope you take the time, five minutes or so, to read the NY Times article the above link will take you to. I think you'll be the better for having read it. I know I am. The themes discussed in the article resonate strongly today, given the state of the economy.
Dancing elves tomorrow!