20 Years of Self Delusion
“History teaches us that men behave wisely once they’ve exhausted all other alternatives.”
Some quotes feel like they were written with me in mind. This one from Still Crazy might as well have my name on it.
“History teaches us that men behave wisely once they’ve exhausted all other alternatives.”
Some quotes feel like they were written with me in mind. This one from Still Crazy might as well have my name on it.
Vacations—especially family ones—are less perfect adventure and more chaotic comedy. I chase the “happy upcoming thing”—autumn, holidays, spring break—but the escape often turns into a mess. Cruises rain disappointments: rough seas, thin tissues, missing salt shakers. Yet those ruined moments—a laugh with waiters, pepper shakers that aren’t even real—become the ones you remember. Just like the Griswolds, joy often hides in the ordinary, messy, grumpy parts. And maybe it’s enough.
On our last morning at sea, I watched a sunrise break through gray skies while an older couple walked by hand in hand. That simple scene broke through me. Back in our cabin, Becky and I shared coffee as the world began moving again. We ate a fancy brunch that felt both absurd and perfect—soups poured with flair, fruit towers, steak plated like crown jewels. Yet all I thought about were the pancakes we fed our kids twenty years ago. I’ve learned contentment grows in welcoming what’s present—not chasing some bigger, grander image of happiness.
A single gesture can outlast the moment it’s given. The simplest kindness—a steady hand, a warm greeting, a bit of laughter shared—can echo long after, reshaping how someone carries their burdens. Small acts rarely make headlines, yet they often do the quiet, unseen work of lifting spirits and reminding us we’re never truly alone.