By Sharon DelVento
By Sharon DelVento

Most of us live in Paradise at one point or another in our lives; Eden is not a place, it is a time.

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            The Great Harvest Bread Company's challah:  It looks good, tastes good, smells good, and feels good to tear off a piece in your hands (soft and squishy); the only thing it doesn't do is sing. Four out of five senses satisfied and gratified. What more could a sensate being want?

 

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           Nothing brings people together and creates a bond like having a common enemy, whether that enemy be Nazis (united the Allies in WWII), Westerners (uniting ISIS now), Jewish people and Palestinians (each united against the other), a mean boss (unites trade unions), creatures from outer-space (see Aliens), or natural threats like sharks, asteroids, fires, earthquakes, floods (see Jaws,Armageddon, Backdraft, San Andreas, and The Flood, respectively), or winter (ask anyone in the upper Midwest).
 
            That's why we love to hate. In fact, some people are in love with their hate; it is like food to them. Is this why those who preach love and tolerance and forgiveness get assassinated?

 

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            How was England's treatment of Alan Turing any different from the Nazis' treatment of Jewish people, save that England killed Turing by his own hand? Prison or castration:  what kind of choice is that to offer a man?


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            My trying to “think for myself” when it comes to computers is akin to a whale's trying to think for itself on land.

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            A thickness of hair fell over my right shoulder, so when I looked down, I could see this wide ribbon of gray-white hair. If my blouse had been white, the hair would have been almost invisible. “I am slowly becoming a ghost,” I thought.
 

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            I was driving behind a 4-by-4 that had not four, but six tires – two on each side in the back; so the thingamabobs arching over the tires (can you tell I'm not a truck person?) stuck out so wide that it reminded me of the face of a chipmunk just after he's stuffed his cheeks full of crocus bulbs. I've never laughed so hard at a truck in my life. Sorry, guys.
 

                                                                       ***
 
            On long road trips, I always have pen and paper handy in the car, in case I hear something on the radio that I want to remember; when I told my sister this, she stared at me, aghast. “Shame on you! You text while driving?!”
 

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            Although my sister is ten years older than I, she has always been, of the two of us, the younger at heart and the one more at ease with spontaneity, unpredictability, and chaos in general.
 
            The table in her kitchen serves many purposes:  it is where she and her husband eat, pay bills, write letters, water plants, and read the mail and newspapers. Were you to drop by on any given day, you would find on this table potted orchids, plates, pens, papers, and a Dilbert calendar. Beauty, practicality, humor. This table is the heart of the house.
 
            And it says a great deal about my sister that there – in the very heart of her home – there is -
 
            A kazoo.
 
            Need I say more?