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2000

The pandemic feels like a lifetime ago, and yet I can tell you exactly how long it has been: 2,000 days. I know this not because of science, or history, or the passage of time, but because on March 1, 2020, I started a streak.

A walking streak.

Every single day since then—through shutdowns and reopenings, through new jobs, new routines, travel, stress, exhaustion, weather that felt like it was designed to break me—I have walked at least 10,000 steps.

Two thousand days.

I didn’t set out to do this. At the beginning, it was something to do during the pandemic. It also protected my sanity. Walking was the chance to get out of the house and leave everything else behind. Ten thousand steps a day had long been the baseline, ever since I started wearing a fitness tracker. Twenty-two thousand steps was the dream. (For reference, that’s about ten miles a day, or the equivalent of pacing nervously during a seven-hour baseball game.)

The first year was easy. I averaged nearly 22,000 steps per day. The second was manageable, still averaging nearly 20,000 steps per day. But the last three were harder. I changed careers. Time shrank. The joy of the walk, once as natural as breathing, sometimes felt like another appointment on an already crowded calendar.

Quick aside here: if you’ve never experienced the low-grade panic of watching your fitness tracker show 9,976 steps at 11:57 p.m., you haven’t lived. That’s when you find yourself walking in pajama pants around the kitchen island like a lunatic, praying the neighbors can’t see through the window.

What kept me going? Partly, the dog. (She doesn’t negotiate. She knows when it’s walk time, and if I try to skip, she looks at me like I just canceled Christmas.) Partly, the number itself. The bigger the streak grew, the harder it was to let it go. You don’t walk 1,732 consecutive days just to stop there.

And now we’re at 2,000.

I should say this: I am impressed with myself. I don’t usually say things like that, but persistence deserves a little horn-tooting. If I can string together 2,000 days of anything—walking, writing, flossing—maybe I’m not as undisciplined as I sometimes think.

Of course, streaks end. Technology fails. Bodies get sick. Life interrupts. At some point, a day will come when the step counter doesn’t make it to 10,000, and I’ll have to deal with it.

But not yet.

The next goal is December 30, 2025—Day 2,131. If you’re a baseball fan, you know why. (That’s the number Cal Ripken Jr. reached when he passed Lou Gehrig in consecutive games played. If you’re not a fan, know this: it’s persistence at a mythical scale.) After that, the big one: 2,633 days, when Ripken’s streak itself comes into view on or about February 6, 2027.

Will I make it to 2,633? I don’t know. The streak doesn’t give me the same joy it once did, and some days it feels like one more box to check. But every morning, the dog is there, stretching in anticipation, eyes pathetically pleading. And every morning, I lace up my shoes.

Unforgettable Moments

When I was growing up, my mother drove Chevrolet station wagons. They had wood paneling on the sides, vinyl seats that could burn your legs on hot summer days, and an 8-track player. We had a limited selection of 8-track tapes stored in a faux alligator skin box. One of my favorite tapes was “I Got Lucky” by Elvis Presley. I enjoyed listening to it while we drove around town or went on road trips. Truth be told, it was one of his worst albums, but I loved it.

On June 21, 1977, Elvis performed a concert in my hometown, marking the first event held at the brand-new civic center. This was my first concert (not counting elementary school Christmas concerts). Though it was a long time ago, my memories of that evening are still vivid. The excitement in the building before the concert was palpable. When the lights dimmed and “Also sprach Zarathustra” started playing, I knew we were in for an amazing show.

When Elvis walked onto the stage, the lightbulbs began popping, accompanied by the screams of excited women. I will never forget those screams. It was evident that Elvis was larger than life. He delivered a tremendous show before walking off the stage. Less than two months later, we were all shocked by his sudden death. In the fall of 1977, we gathered around our television to watch the Elvis In Concert CBS Special, which featured the same concert.

That night in June 1977 had a profound impact on me. I fell in love with the music of Elvis Presley. My first cassette tape purchase was “Elvis: Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite.” I must have listened to that tape a thousand times, and I can still sing most of the songs from memory.

In the years since the concert, many people have commented that it wasn’t Elvis Presley’s best performance. In fact, it wasn’t. He was significantly heavier than in earlier parts of his career and forgot many lyrics, often slurring his words. When I compare the concert I attended to other performances I’ve seen, it’s clear that I didn’t witness his finest work. However, even at his worst, his performance was still remarkable.

I still have my ticket stub from that concert, tucked away. It’s a simple piece of paper, but each time I see it, I’m transported back to that night. I’m not entirely sure why I’ve held onto it all these years, but perhaps it’s because some moments in life are so impactful that we want to preserve them forever.

Reflections on Another Year

It’s complicated. It’s Father’s Day. My father wasn’t the father I wanted him to be; however, given how things have turned out, it appears he was the father I needed.

It’s complicated. Twenty-nine years ago today, my mother called to tell me that my father had suffered another heart attack and didn’t survive. It was a Saturday, and the next day was Father’s Day. his sudden death is one of the saddest days of my life.

It’s complicated. As critical as I was of my father while growing up, on this day when we celebrate fathers, I am reminded of how challenging it is to be a parent. You are constantly trying to make the best decisions, but you often fail. I love my sons more than anything in the world. I haven’t been perfect, but I have always loved them.

It’s complicated. An elected official was assassinated yesterday, marking the seventh such incident in the last 50 years. There is a suspect and it appears he was targeting several other elected officials. Meanwhile, the president celebrated his birthday with a grand military parade, something I have never witnessed in my lifetime across the country. There were mostly peaceful protests taking place. The country is deeply divided.

It’s complicated. Birthdays should be a celebration—a time to reflect on all that is good in our lives. Over the past year, I have used social media to acknowledge birthdays. Each day, I start by checking Facebook for birthday announcements. For those who share their birthdays, I make sure to send them a heartfelt birthday message.

I also take a moment to reflect on how I know each person, why they remain friends on Facebook, and the joy we have brought to each other’s lives. My friends come from various places, with diverse interests, differing political views, and various professions. While I may have favorites among them, taking the time to think about each friend is a nice way to start my day and often reminds me of many wonderful memories.

I also remember friends who are no longer with us but are still on Facebook. I believe that if we dedicate time to remember and celebrate these connections, it enriches our lives.

It’s a bittersweet day for me—today marks my birthday, Father’s Day, and the anniversary of my dad’s passing. It’s a lot to process. So, let’s take a moment to do something special today to brighten the world around us. Reach out to the people you love; they might be facing their own complexities. You never know how your words of kindness can make a difference. Life is complicated.



6/9/72

Some numbers stick with you. For me, they are 6/9/1972, a date, and 238, the number of deaths.

On June 9, 1972, in western South Dakota, it started to rain. My only memory of that evening is standing outside under our covered front entryway while my father smoked. As I watched him, I noticed that the raindrops were the biggest I had ever seen. When I mentioned this to my dad, he suggested we go back inside because it was bedtime.

On the evening of June 9, 1972, our family went to bed early. When we awoke the next morning, we were unaware of the tragic events that had occurred overnight. Persistent clouds over the Black Hills resulted in severe flash flooding that devastated the Rapid City area. By the morning of June 10, there were 238 fatalities, and more than 1,300 homes had been destroyed.

My father was a medical doctor in our community. That morning, my mother received a call from the hospital asking if my dad would be coming into work. She was surprised by the question because she was unaware of what had happened. The hospital explained that there had been a severe storm that caused significant damage, and his services were urgently needed.

In the days, weeks, months, and years following the flood, I began to hear more stories. I learned about a classmate and friend who lost his father and two brothers, one of whom was never found. I heard about a friend of my sister’s who survived in an air pocket inside a submerged vehicle while her brothers slowly succumbed. I listened to the accounts of the screams that echoed during the disaster. I witnessed the devastation firsthand.

Our house and family were on high ground, so we were safe from the flooding. However, some friends of ours lost everything and had to stay with us until they could find a new place to live. My preschool was destroyed. While I’m not sure, I believe my father’s office was flooded but did not sustain permanent damage.

It has been over 50 years, but I still vividly remember many events from the time of the flood. Growing up, I encountered haunting reminders of the devastation: driveways where homes once stood, streets that are now vacant and abandoned, and buildings bearing the names of those who perished. Many of these reminders are still visible today if you know where to look (see picture at top of steps from a house washed away in the flood still present). Ironically, much of this is located along a beautiful greenway and bike trail that were created in the aftermath of the destruction.

In recent years, on this anniversary, I have taken the time to read through a list of the names of those who lost their lives. I reflect on friends who were affected by the flood and how suddenly life can change. This reminds me of what Marcus Aurelius wrote over 2000 years ago: “You could leave life right now. Let that determine what you do, say, and think.” Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, Book 2, Section 11.

This is dedicated to all who were affected by the 1972 flood but more specifically to Shirley, Steve, Sarah, Andy, Lisa, Mike, and JoAnn.

Life Events

Throughout my professional career, I have consistently advised adults to establish an estate plan. A well-crafted estate plan helps prevent family conflicts, reduce taxes and expenses, and provides clear guidance on how assets should be distributed. I also recommend that individuals review and update their estate plans after significant life events, such as a death, birth, marriage, or divorce. After this past weekend, I am adding college graduation to that list of important events.

This past weekend, our youngest child graduated from university, and I couldn’t be prouder of him. Watching him grow and mature over the last four years has been incredibly rewarding. As I observed friends, family, and others interacting during this significant occasion, I found myself reflecting on a few key points.

First, I was struck by the importance relationships that were formed over these years. Second, I was reminded of how quickly time passes; it feels like just yesterday when we dropped him off at school. Lastly, I was reminded of the importance of higher education.

My university years were quite a while ago, but many of the relationships I formed during that time still play a significant role in my life today. Watching my son interact with his friends and their families brings a smile to my face; they are wonderful people. As the graduates transition to the next phase of their lives, I hope they continue to nurture their relationships, even as they scatter across the country.

As I write this blog post from my now-quiet empty nest, I can hardly wrap my head around how swiftly time has passed. It feels like just yesterday we were dropping him off at his freshman dorm, filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. His brief visits home during breaks often left me wishing for just a little more time together, and our trips to his university town were far too few. Yet, here I am, in a surprising twist, sending him a checklist to gear up for moving out of his apartment and into a house of his own. How did we get here so fast?

As a former university professor, I have attended numerous graduation ceremonies. While many share similar elements, my son’s graduation truly reaffirmed the importance of higher education. In recent years, higher education has faced significant scrutiny, and in some cases, this criticism is warranted.

As a student, my university required every student to take a capstone course centered around the essential question, “How then shall we live?” This course encouraged us to explore, connect, and discuss what we had learned throughout our time at the university. My simple takeaway, both then and now, is that higher education serves at least three important functions.

First, it develops and expands our knowledge base. Second, it cultivates essential soft skills, including critical thinking, adaptability, time management, commitment, and improved communication. Lastly, and most importantly, it highlights the importance of building and engaging in a strong community.

What resonated with me was the vital role that universities play in fostering community. A good university gathers a diverse array of individuals—each with their own backgrounds, perspectives, and aspirations—and creates an environment where collaboration and growth can flourish. This sentiment was articulated by both the president of the university and the commencement speaker, who emphasized the importance of this collective journey. They encouraged us to recognize our shared responsibility in using our unique talents and experiences to contribute positively to the world.

2024 – Time to Review

In “40 Chances: Finding Hope in a Hungry World,” Howard G. Buffett shares his personal journey of using his wealth and influence to combat global hunger and poverty. Drawing from his experiences as a farmer and philanthropist, Buffett reflects on the 40 opportunities—referred to as “chances”—that a person has in their lifetime to create a meaningful impact. Essentially, each chance represents a year or a growing season.

The title and premise of the book are particularly impactful, highlighting the limited nature of our opportunities. Regardless of whether we analyze our chances over years, months, weeks, or days, it is essential to recognize that we are afforded a finite number of opportunities in life. This understanding encourages me to make the most of every moment.

As we near the end of the year, I find myself reflecting on my year. This time signifies both closure and the promise of new beginnings. Over the couple of days, I will review my goals and aspirations for 2024. While I have celebrated some victories, there have also been moments when I fell short. When January 1st arrives, I plan to take the time not only to dream but also to set purposeful goals for 2025. Here’s to the new opportunities that lie ahead!

2024 Gratitude Challege – Day 7

This post will be somewhat more detailed than usual. While I aim to avoid political debates here, it’s important to acknowledge the recent election. For some, yesterday was a moment of celebration, while for others, it brought feelings of sadness and confusion. Observations from social media suggest that the divisive climate surrounding elections is expected to continue in the future.

Honestly, yesterday was just another day for me; the core of who I am hasn’t shifted. My commitment to acting with virtue, kindness, and fairness remains unwavering. Earlier this year, I shared my thoughts on the significance of discovering our common ground, and that message still resonates deeply with me. Let’s keep striving to connect and understand one another. Be grateful for our similarities and our differences.

The picture at the top of this post is from my garage. It reminds me that I have some recycling work to do. Additionally, we get a lot of packages at our house. Perhaps we purchased too much stuff.

While I support capitalism and the free market, I question how much consumption is truly necessary. Can you resist the temptation of excessive consumerism? Instead of indulging yourself today, think about treating someone else or contributing to a worthy cause—or both.

It is easy to praise providence for anything that may happen if you have two qualities: a complete view of what has actually happened in each instance and a sense of gratitude. Without gratitude what is the point of seeing, and without seeing what is the object of gratitude?—EPICTETUS, DISCOURSES, 1.6.1–2

Day 4 – 2024 Gratitude Challenge

As I take a moment to write this, I’m gearing up to spend a few cherished hours in the here and now, watching my beloved Minnesota Vikings. I know how important it is to focus on the present, which means setting aside the distractions of past regrets and future uncertainties. It’s a gentle reminder that being fully present can bring joy and connection. This was the challenge for Day 3.

It is also important to spend time reflecting on the past. We often overlook the true value of a moment. Consider the memories that brighten your life—what are the ones that make you smile, laugh, or even bring a heartwarming tear to your eye? Take a journey down memory lane and share those beautiful moments with your family and friends. Remember to reach out to those who played a part in creating those memories with you. Celebrate the connections that make those memories so extraordinary!

At the top of this post is a picture that holds a special place in my heart. It is from the Black Hills, a region I haven’t called home for a while. Nevertheless, the memories I’ve created there are vivid and alive, each serving as a beautiful reminder of the adventures and moments that have shaped me.

4 Years

As I post this, I will be on a reflective walk to remember a difficult time.

This is a story that many people have heard before. It all started on September 4, 2020, when my oldest brother tested positive for the Covid19 virus. This was a time when there were no known effective treatments or vaccines available. He had to isolate himself until he was no longer showing any symptoms. According to common wisdom, if you could make it through 11 days from the diagnosis without experiencing major symptoms, chances were that you would be fine. September 15 would be Day 11.

For the most part, I received good reports about my brother: oxygen levels were good, temperature was mostly good, and no breathing problems. I remained cautiously optimistic. We just needed to get to day 11.

On the afternoon of September 14th, I received a report that my brother was feeling a bit agitated and had a slight fever. He was given something to help reduce his temperature. I was disappointed he still had a slight fever as I wanted all symptoms gone. Unfortunately, this would be the last report I received.

At approximately 2:00 am, I was awoken by the sound of the doorbell and my dog’s barking. When I opened the door, I was met by a local police officer who delivered the unfortunate news that my brother had passed away in his sleep. Regrettably, he became the 200th person in South Dakota to succumb to COVID-19.

It’s been four years since this happened. This day brings up a lot of emotions, but most of all, I feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. I mourn the fact that my brother spent the last 10 days of his life in isolation. I grieve for the many who lost their lives to this virus. It’s heartbreaking that a virus became a tool for political gain. But above all, I miss my brother dearly. Although I didn’t visit him as often as I should have, he was always in my thoughts.

Memories of A Legend

A few days ago, I was saddened to hear about the passing of Phil Donahue. He was a trailblazing figure in the realm of daily television talk shows for close to three decades. Renowned for his timely and thought-provoking content, Donahue’s shows were not only engaging but also often sparked important discussions. One of his signature trademarks was conducting interviews while strolling through the studio, creating an interactive and dynamic atmosphere. His show was also known for actively involving the studio audience and taking phone calls from viewers.

Even though Donahue was talented, he wasn’t my preferred choice as an interviewer. In the photo above, Donahue is shown alongside my all-time favorite interviewer, my mother. I can still recall my mom’s infectious enthusiasm as she eagerly prepared for her trip to Chicago to meet and interview Donahue. After her return, her excitement remained as she vividly described the entire experience.

My mom had a real talent for connecting with people, whether they were everyday individuals or celebrities. Some might call me biased, but I truly believe she was even better at it than the famous talk show hosts. Luckily for me, being a mother was her true passion, and she excelled at that, too.

Even though I miss her dearly, I’m filled with immense gratitude for everything she brought into my life. The photo of Phil Donahue captures the same sentiment, radiating warmth and thankfulness. “With Gratitude”