Choosing Good Thoughts

09/17/2025

“We Are the Bridge”

My name’s Richard. I’m 74. I sometimes think our generation is the bridge between two worlds — one made of dirt roads and handwritten letters, the other made of satellites and screens in our pockets.

I was born in a house without air conditioning. Summer meant open windows and the hum of a box fan. We knew the neighbors by name, and if your bike chain broke, you knocked on any door until someone found a wrench. We grew up on patience — waiting for the mail, waiting for the library to open, waiting for the radio to play our favorite song again.

Then the world sped up. Phones shrank, music became invisible, and the news didn’t take days to reach us — it arrived in our palms before we finished breakfast. We learned to type, to swipe, to tap. We learned to talk to machines and have them talk back. We learned… because we always had to.

We’ve seen milk delivered to the door in glass bottles, and we’ve scanned groceries without a cashier. We’ve dropped coins in payphones and made video calls across oceans. We’ve known the sound of silence — no buzzing notifications — and the sound of an entire world pinging at once.

Sometimes younger folks think we’re behind. But here’s what I know: our generation knows both worlds. We can plant tomatoes and write an email. We can tell a story without Google, and then fact-check ourselves with it. We know the weight of a handwritten letter because we’ve held it, and we know the reach of a message sent in seconds because we’ve pressed “send” and watched a reply arrive from thousands of miles away.

We are proof that you can change without losing yourself. That you can honor where you came from while learning where the world is going.

We’ve buried friends and welcomed grandchildren. We’ve watched diseases disappear and new ones arrive. We’ve known paper maps and GPS, postcards and emojis, patience and immediacy.

And maybe that’s our real gift — we carry the memory of a slower, quieter world, and the skills to navigate the fast, loud one. We can teach the young that not everything needs to happen instantly… and remind the old that it’s never too late to try something new.

We are the bridge. The middle chapter. The link between what was and what will be.

09/12/2025

My grandma had a saying she repeated often: “Life is like a train, child. You don’t stay at every stop, and not everyone rides with you until the end.”

As a child, I didn’t really understand what she meant. I thought it was just one of her old-timey sayings, like the ones she whispered while sewing or baking pies. But now, as the years pass and my own hair turns gray, I see the truth in her words.

When you’re young, the train is loud, fast, and crowded. Everyone seems to be on board—friends from school, neighbors, coworkers, family. The compartments are filled with laughter, plans, and noise. It feels like the ride will last forever.

But as the journey goes on, people get off. Some step off at new stops because their path takes them elsewhere. Some are lost suddenly, leaving behind empty seats we can’t bear to look at. And slowly, the train grows quieter.

That’s when Grandma’s wisdom comes alive. She said the secret wasn’t to mourn every passenger who leaves, but to cherish the ones who are still sitting beside you. To look out the window and notice the scenery, because it changes constantly—sunrises, fields, cities, mountains, all part of the same ride.

Now, when I visit her memory in my heart, I can almost hear her voice:
“Don’t be afraid when the train empties out. Be grateful you had company for as long as you did. And when your stop finally comes, step off with peace, knowing you traveled well.”

Life really is like a train—filled with comings and goings, goodbyes and reunions, noise and quiet. And if we’re lucky, by the time we reach the last station, we’ll realize the ride was beautiful, not because it was perfect, but because it was ours.

09/11/2025

A father teaching his children that their mother is important reinforces the idea of respecting women and contributes to a child's overall emotional well-being and security. ❤️

09/11/2025

08/02/2025

When a parent talks negatively about one child to another, it creates a harmful dynamic that damages the entire family.

It’s emotional manipulation. It teaches children that closeness comes through betrayal. It creates division, jealousy, and mistrust. It forces siblings into emotional roles they never asked for… spy, therapist, favorite, outcast, etc.

No child should be used to process a parent’s frustrations. No child should be turned against their own sibling to maintain a parent’s sense of control. It leaves deep emotional scars. You grow up anxious, always wondering what people say about you when you are not around. You struggle with trust. You overthink your place in every relationship. And worst of all, you carry guilt and confusion that was never yours to begin with.

This isn’t just “family drama.” It’s emotional abuse disguised as casual conversation. And the effects do not just go away. They shape how you relate to others, how you protect yourself, & how you love.