The thought of morning coffee, the state of American politics and the opportunity/challenge this presents to comment and write something insightful and meaningful, the prospect of hosting family for a visit and the plans we have for when they’re here, plans to travel and visit family, a plan to work on some project and bringing it to completion.

More simply stated… caffeine consumption, the unrelenting presence of Donald Trump, certain family get-togethers, and building something.

As they come to mind:

–Hidden Figures

–Apollo 13

–Notting Hill

–Jaws

–The Sixth Sense

–Uncle Buck

–Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

–The Help

–Home Alone

–Forrest Gump

There are a lot of honorable mentions, and if I gave it more thought I’d probably be switching out some of the above with others. The only reason Schindler’s List and Life Is Beautiful aren’t on here is because I am repulsed by the depravity of the Holocaust, and graphic violence in general– don’t need those visuals. How to explain Jaws? Maybe a palatable mix of light and heavy, and because it’s fiction.

Writing is a means of expression, bringing something that’s inside to the surface, a mirror of sorts. Sometimes it is a raw, emotional reaction, other times a more measured and thoughtful attempt at recording observations, feelings, and opinions. Perhaps more than anything, it is a delightfully unexpected connection with other people from all over the planet– I think– that I dream will lead to many waiting for my contribution to the Daily Writing Prompt and other entries. I’d be lying if I said the Likes and occasional comments didn’t mean anything to me.

Short of that, writing may always be the way I start each day– as an outlet, a habit and a discipline, as comfort and a way to focus. Writing, to me, involves a constant effort to refine a craft, to capture an essence, to find the right words, drilling to the core of how I’m seeing the world, and then putting it out there for others to react to.

The landscape, our close proximity to a river, a small town feel, the temperate climate– though this summer has been annoyingly hot more often than not; places to walk, a few good places to have a meal out, access to all the usual retail merchants and major highways that can get us anywhere, and a small circle of friends and family.

I guess love is running in the background, and joy is elusive because I spend too much time looking around at what’s going on in the world and wondering if we’re ever going to move beyond this penchant for hubris and mistrust and self-enrichment.

So, it might be a tie between gratitude and awe. Gratitude for my wife, children, and grandchildren, for sustenance and a roof over our heads; gratitude for anyone with sense and sensibilities, with a beating heart who cares about others, who takes life seriously and knows what they’re doing– whether it’s our family doctor, grocers and shelf stockers, people who build and discover things, elected officials at all levels. Anyone who diligently tends to their work and assures that the buses run on time, if you know what I mean.

And awe in the presence of so much mystery and beauty. Gotta make the time to look up, to ponder, because there’s a lot that’s still jaw-droppingly amazing.

Occupationally, vocationally, I guess it never really came together. In general, no formula, no step-by-step, little intentionality. I’d say haphazardly, informally, with occasional consideration of pros and cons, more based on need, and ideas that seem financially feasible.

By and large, I have never been a goal-oriented person. That’s my wife’s bailiwick. I never saw a use for a five-year plan, or asking myself where I wanted to be in five years, ten years. That seemed too much like going through life with blinders on.

I will say that once we commit to something, we get it done. But it’s never been a case of, “Well, now that’s done. What’s next?” As if it’s about just doing stuff to stay busy and have something to cross off a list or boast about. That’s plain exhausting to me, and for some reason hugely annoying.

It’s been a mix of practicality and an occasional bit of “what if?”, then figuring out ways to get there.

That sounds like more work than I’m willing to engage in at the moment. I will say that we do have a plan for evacuating the area, since we live near a nuclear power plant. We’ve got the potassium iodide pills, and we know we must evacuate to a town about 40 miles west of here.

The most sobering thought attached to this is that it’s not inconceivable, if an accident is serious enough, that we would never be allowed to return home. Our house and the rest of the houses in the local neighborhoods would sit empty, frozen in time, Chernobyl like– probably looted, and eventually reclaimed by plants and animals.

Just about any word or phrase has the potential to become cliche, because we’re all pelted with some iteration of 24-hour news channel or social media and exposed to a constant diet of well-worn verbiage from somebody. But I’m gonna go with either “devastated,” or “traumatized.”

I’d include the f-word, but unless it’s every other word that comes out of someone’s mouth, it’s the only word, in its various forms and uses, that offers true catharsis when someone is running hot or frustrated.

And I’m still trying to figure out why an “influencer” is afforded so much attention.

I guess it would be this time at the beginning of each day– quiet, coffee, and writing. Purposeful, low pressure, just organizing my thoughts and trying to write something cogent and descriptive.

On the other hand, I’m not sure one can plan a sense of peace. Sometimes you don’t know it until you’re in the midst of it– when you’re tempted to say something hyperbolic, like “It doesn’t get any better than this.”

There are several– teachers, nurses, astronauts, airline pilots… But if I had to pick one, it would probably be a doctor who spends time tending to people in a war zone.