December’s backpack is filled with a pesky barbell. It’s one of those old-fashioned, free-weight types without the plastic coating t…
Perception is a funny thing. To my children, September means a return to school and a certain amount of lost freedom. To me, Septemb…
I love to talk. As a philosopher, I am, quite literally, full of words, opinions and theories. I love deliberating about politics, r…
March’s backpack holds a leash, a ball and giant dog food bowl. For me, March has always represented comings and goings, as the Iris…
This month’s backpack is looking a little older and a little more worn for the wear. If the light catches it correctly, it might app…
So, here’s the thing. January’s backpack should say something bold and profound and contemplative, because it is the first month of …
Through the figurative and literal winter, December’s backpack holds the light. Shivering with potential numbness of body and heart,…
November’s backpack holds old letters and timeless words.
As an adult, I buy into the idea of having a particular amount of responsibility for acting like one. I fully understand and wholehe…
August’s backpack holds a pleadingly vivid memory and a painfully honest question. Inside the pack, there is downtime, a container f…
July’s backpack is deceptive. Though loaded with provisions, the products in the pack have varying expiration dates. The pack appear…
One will not find this month’s philosopher’s backpack exclusively on the hike to the scenic rock with panoramic view, the metaphoric…
March’s backpack stinks. It is not surprising that it smells, given March’s aptitude for rain, but this backpack reeks figuratively, too.
January’s philosophical commentary traditionally involves a clearing-out-and-starting-anew type of message. The beginning of the new…
December’s backpack sits beside a container of hand sanitizer and medical masks. Inside the pack there are comfort jammies, boxes of…
