“If you don’t use it, you lose it,” the ex-marine said as he leaned against the side of the pool and after two hours of laps up and down its length.
It was senior swim day. His skin held to his 80-year-old body firmly. His squinting eyes looked as though they were bordered with the tattooed lines of a sun dial’s second hand.
His wife passed last week. He walked beside her as her body slowly faded.
“No matter how old your body gets,” he said. “Your mind still imagines you’re 20.”

“Sorry, it’s company policy,” the woman behind the counter recites as she pours a coffee into a styrofoam cup after I plead with her to fill the one I’ve brought. An argument ensues as I explain the savings her company would have on their bottom line if everyone brought their own cup. “Sorry, it’s company policy,” she rewinds and plays back to me. “Do you know where this cup goes next?” I question her. “In the trash,” she proudly answers. Exactly.
My watch broke and I sent it to three different places including the manufacturer. It came back in the mail with an “Unable to be fixed sticker” on its glass face. A new one of “equal value” accompanied it.
There is a tidal force behind the way our society functions that is impossible to swim against. Idealism acquiesces into “choosing battles.” How can one choose to accept something while knowing it to be wrong?