As I write this, the nation is celebrating its number two spectator holiday: the baseball playoffs and World Series. (Number one is the Superbowl.) In addition to being the national pastime, baseball has at various times been called a game of inches, a game of skill, a game of strategy, etc., etc. But at its major league level, baseball consists of a bunch of young millionaires playing a boy's game: hitting a round ball with a round stick. (I don't understand a new thing which has sprung up in the past several years. In football and basketball the teams high-five each other at the end of the game, but in baseball the winning team high-fives itself. Is this a new form of sportsmanship?) Anyway, I love baseball, and I like to think of it as a game of reconciliation. Whether one is liberal, conservative, libertarian or green; whether one is Protestant, Catholic, Jewish or Mu...
My alarm clock goes off every morning at eight, except for the few times when I have a breakfast date. Usually I wake up about an hour before that, or at least I partly wake up. It is important that I remain in a “not quite awake but not quite asleep” state, because I consider that time as the germination period for whatever seeds happen to have blown into my head.