Nine weeks into the coronavirus shut-down, I’m wondering — do I need a haircut? What would happen if I just let it grow…and grow? Read more.
DON'T MISS!
I've written hundreds and hundreds of posts over the years. To help you find your way to the best of the best, I've tagged my favorites "Don't Miss!" Scroll down here to find them.
Another way to locate Riffs on Life that you might enjoy is to click above on your favorite category – "My Ever-Changing Family," perhaps, or "Funny Button." You can also use the search box located way up top to hunt for stories by topic. There's fun reading at "garden," "aging," "kids" and, of course, "Jon."
My Coronavirus Nightmare — I’m in a Crowd of People and I Forgot My Mask. Sheltering at Home Week 9
My psyche is no slouch. It’s keeping up with current events, and it’s invented a coronavirus nightmare to match the times. Read more.
At 78, I Still Have a Lot of Living to Do — Do the Deciders Care? Sheltering at Home Week 8
I’m 78 and I still have a lot of living to do. But I’m feeling marginalized by the coronavirus deciders — corporate leaders, power brokers, TV pundits. Read more.
Hallelujah! Our Porta-Potty Is Back. Construction Work Resumes. Sheltering at Home Week 8
Work on our remodel has been suspended for weeks. So, as construction work resumes, a porta-potty out front is a sight for sore eyes. Read more.
I Let the Maytag Man Into the House. And I Here’s What I Learned About Human Nature. Sheltering at Home Week 7
Plumber, handyman, Maytag Man, flood abatement guy. Four service people came into our house this week, bringing help and simple human kindness. Read more.
Post-Coronavirus, What Will Happen to All That Hugging We’ve Been Doing? Sheltering at Home Week 6
Personally, I like a little time to pass, and an actual friendship to evolve, before I do any serious hugging with somebody. Read more.
I Miss My Friends. But I Miss My Acquaintances More — Sheltering at Home Week 5
I miss my acquaintances. I miss the shopkeepers, the women in my Zumba class, the friends of friends, all the people who know me, but don’t know my name. Read more.