A Superhero of the Ordinary

“He was a superhero of the ordinary,” a son eulogized his father the other day — a great dad — in a chapel on the hill.

You can’t ever become a fuss bucket.

That’s so dull and predictable. And the last person you should ever bore is yourself.

So I slip into the too-cold lake. For the first 15 seconds, I am insane with chill.

Then, as with much in life, the idea starts to grow on me … this swim across the little bay, the autumn sunlight skidding across the water, sideways like a book…laterally, like a flip to the tailback