I grew up on a lake in Waterloo, Michigan. When my cousins and I were running around in our water wings, someone usually had their arm buried shoulder-deep in a jumbo bag of Shearers potato chips, tongue stained Faygo Rock-n-Rye red, and lips wrapped around a candy cigarette or a Ring Pop.
Chips, pop and candy. In a word, Joy.
Joy can be a bit harder to come by as adults. But I believe it is essential to a well-loved life. Adult joy requires a bit more than a salt/fat/sugar injection to the brain, but I like to remember that it can be simple. Maybe the trick is to find the nugget of magic in whatever is in front of you. Even if what’s in front of you is infuriating, heartbreaking, or unexceptional.
That’s what these pages are for. To pick apart life and see what’s worth looking at. With the help of my friends.
