As I’ve gotten older over the years, I feel better as I age some more.

I know it is not just me, but we pay more attention to people in our age group. Family, friends, casual acquaintances- we notice the evidence of aging in them.

I will be 70 next year, but I have no problem missing a day of work or any desire to quit at a certain time in the near future.

I feel much better now than I did when I was much younger. Better physically and mentally. It has not always been this way.

I wasted a lot of time and money on wants and fulfilling expectations. Both triggered physical aches and pains, literal aches and pains, that made me accept that I would not live to be 60.

Back then, I could count on one hand the number of times in a month when I could tell myself, “this is how I should feel every day.”

What changed? I simplified my life. It was not easy, not even sorting or deciding which is simple or which only looks and sounds simple.

Simple means honestly assessing what I need to do against what I want to do.

Simple means coldly admitting what I can control and letting pass what I can not.

Simple means not running around with family members and friends who still think they are in their 30s and are still “among the very young at heart”. I will not be fooled by a line in a song.

Simplicity means deciding that what I have now is more than enough.

Years back, I would be with family or friends, and it never failed: at some point, we started trying to impress each other with what we had recently bought and where we bought it. Brand names at brand stores. I got tired of this, really tired.

One day, in some variation of that conversation, I cut everybody off and told them, “If Walmart doesn’t sell it, I don’t buy it, and if Aldi’s doesn’t have it, I don’t eat it.”

I actually tried this, and my life didn’t change. It got simpler and cheaper. Made me happy.

Simplicity sets the tone and direction for my day.

My morning starts early, no later than 4 AM, not out of any particular necessity, plus one of the cats, Hobbes, decided sometime that he would be my ‘alarm clock,’ and it’s his choice what time it should be set.

I would initially hear him murmuring to himself outside my door; if I did not respond in earnest, then the soft, considerate scratching followed. If I’m still not out, the scratching is accompanied by trilling.

Picture our parents shaking us, accompanied by “time to get up now,” when we were at the age when it was hardest to wake us up.

The ruckus has now awoken the 2 other cats, Beanie and Skinny. My day is about to start.

COFFEE

I did not start taking coffee seriously as a morning beverage until much later in life. Instant coffee in jars and cans was just fine. Scoop a spoonful, pour hot water, and a cup is more than enough for the day.

One day, my daughter convinced me to try Starbucks coffee. It was better, for sure, but the prices are ridiculous and unsustainable if I let myself get into the habit. I had to find a way.

I jumped into all things coffee headfirst and, for a few years, tried different variations and combinations of bean types, roast levels, water temperatures, grind sizes, brewing methods, grinders, and brewing equipment.

No ground coffee for me. Coffee companies can fancy-package and seal it all they want, but 24 hours after being ground, it’s just stale coffee. Hence, none of those faddish single-serve K-Cups either.

I got obsessed with whole-bean dark roast one time. How can I not? I open the bag, and the aroma is as pure as I have always imagined coffee smells. It doesn't hurt that every bean glistens in its natural oil. So reassuring.

Having gone through all these exercises, I simplified again.

6-cup Cuisinart auto brew with carafe temperature control

3 oz. Krups coffee grinder

#4 basket-type filters

Light to Medium roast whole beans. This type retains most of the characteristics and flavor where the bean was grown. The soil, climate, and all things organic to the land.

Ethiopian beans are very distinct from Colombian or any other region where coffee trees are grown.

The bean part: I do not go cheap or lazy. I keep at least 3 bags of different-origin whole beans so I can rotate anytime. And I only grind when I am ready to have my coffee.

CATS

“In ancient times, cats were worshipped as gods; they have not forgotten this.” Pratchett — Pyramids,1989

Much like coffee, my current understanding of and relationship with cats came late in life, too. I’m loosely claiming ‘understanding’ here. The more I observe our cats, the more interesting I find them.

We had all kinds of pets when I was growing up, but I never felt any sort of kinship with any of them.

Cats Have Nine Lives

Cats are born retired. I will vigorously disagree with anyone who will claim they are indolent. It’s their nature not to do anything except what pleases them — an ideal retiree’s life.

Skinny, Beanie, and Hobbes have 2 storage bins of toys courtesy of my kids, but their favorites are the broom when I am sweeping their sheddings and any length of jute twine dangled above them.

You can lay out the softest, fluffiest bedding for them, but if they want to lie down on a piece of discarded cardboard, you have to respect that choice. Pick them up and put them on your well-intentioned bedding, and they will just get up and give you that “what’s wrong with you?” look before walking away and disappearing for a while.

They know we are at their beck and call. They’ll brush up against us, give us a tickling nip if we ignore that initial contact. If we’re still oblivious, they will stand or sit patiently next to us, keeping that steady gaze.

They will let us pet and scratch them, but only where they direct us. Do not make the mistake of scratching them where they do not want to be touched unless you do not mind seeing their disapproving shake-off, as if some unwanted element needs to be dislodged from their body. That “what’s wrong with you?” look, of course, completes your humiliation.

Cats must be the champions of cleanliness and grooming. My casual observation of Skinny, Beanie, and Hobbes leaves me no doubt that grooming is their favorite activity after sleeping. My kids have sworn to the cats smelling like cinnamon or laundry dryer sheets.

More than all of these, Skinny, Beanie, and Hobbes have been offering me crystal-clear glimpses of what it is to be graceful, patient, and kind.

No matter what time of day, the cats are always a picture of elegance. They strut around looking confident and assertive, not a trace of doubt that they will get what they need and do whatever pleases them.

I can’t help but admire and learn from them.

We chose to pick them up from rescues when they were kittens. There was never a moment when they doubted their safety among us. Instantly, they trusted us. To me, this is the essence of our relationship.

In our hands, they trust us to protect and care for them. They trust that nothing bad will happen to them as long as they are with us. Because they expect this of us, we must be patient and kind in every way.

Virtues and lessons taught without words being spoken — wondrous, breathing living creatures.

We all head to the kitchen, where their bowls and my coffee stuff are, with all 3 cats leading the way.

Depending on how badly I need my first cup of coffee, I normally scoop their portions first and refresh their water dispenser.

While they are eating, I have to wait before I can make my coffee. Beanie especially does not like the whirring sound of the grinder. She bolts away and won’t be found until she’s gotten over the sound.

When they are done, each cat retires to their favorite spot. Much like our need to be at our favorite table or spot in the counter at our favorite diner.

Skinny is on top of the cat tree overlooking the backyard.

Beanie is by the glass door leading to the patio.

Hobbes parks himself by the entrance that divides the kitchen and dining area. He loves watching me prepare my coffee, the back-and-forth between the kitchen counter and the coffee maker in a different area. Or maybe it is the clear, unobstructed line of sight to any unfinished bowl.

My coffee is ready, just black; and the cats all situated, it’s a good start as any, everyday.

I Wake Up For Coffee And the Cats was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It’s label slappin’ time.

The 2026 midterms are less than two months away, and the next presidential election is two years out. The GOP labeling machine is in hyper-crank, spitting out the predictable, tired but effective labels — radical, socialist, communist, un-American, anti-working-class, anti-law enforcement.

The purpose is to reinforce the voters’ fears to keep their hold on power, and please their super-rich political donors, who dictate business-friendly policies at our expense.

At the same time, it is shamelessly draping itself in hollow badges of virtue, righteousness, and inclusivity — freedom, conservative, patriotic, law and order, family values, for the working people, the Constitution.

I picture the political process as a juvenile playground with each side and their supporters behind them, calling each other names. Whatever label hits a nerve, their supporters either cheer and stick with them or move to the other side. It is a stupid and frustrating picture.

This disorients voters, diverts attention from the real hard issues, and widens the division among us: American patriots vs. communists, freedom-lovers vs. socialists, free enterprise vs. freeloaders, and on and on and on until the final votes have been counted and we all find ourselves worse off than before.

The status quo is well in place, and we all tell ourselves: wait ’til the next election.

Labels

Labels rightfully serve their purpose on consumer products, big and small. They detail ingredients and warn us of dangers.

Labels used politically are the danger itself. They are the poison.

The ingredients? Absolutely nothing of substance, just trigger words and names all meant to scare and make voters choose sides.

Once a label is slapped on a candidate or policy, judgment is swift before anyone checks the evidence and facts.

Especially at rallies, you can’t help but agree with the crowd unless you want to feel socially isolated and made to think you can't distinguish between good and evil.

Going with the herd is the safe choice.

Propaganda soothes fear and anxiety. It works all the time.

Meanwhile, a seasoned politician, demagogue, or con man who labels the campaign as a plain folks movement will do all he can to obscure his wealth, make himself out as an outsider who shares the everyday struggles of the working-class voters.

Comparing Labels

“Communists” was used against those who wanted a statutory minimum wage, the 8-hour workday, and a 40-hour workweek.

“Class warfare” against proposals to proportionately tax the super rich, who in reality have already shirked most taxes because of their expensive lawyers and accountants.

“Un-American” is a favorite tag for labor organizers, civil rights marchers, and war critics.

Here is the irony. Several core components of modern U.S. public policy were originally advocated in the Socialist Party’s major national campaigns from 1904 through 1932.

Old Age Pensions and Social Insurance became the Social Security Act of 1935

Unemployment Insurance codified under the Social Security Act of 1935

Child Labor Bans enacted via the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938

Minimum Wage and Maximum Hour Laws established under the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938

Collective Bargaining Rights became law through the National Labor Relations Act (Wagner Act) of 1935

Progressive Income and Estate Taxes codified via the 16th Amendment (1913) & Revenue Acts of 1916 and 1935

What’s my point? Forget the labels. How much have these policies been fully embraced, and benefited us?

In a 1953 pamphlet, Norman Thomas observed that:

“Here in America more measures once praised or denounced as socialist have been adopted than once I should have thought possible short of a socialist victory at the polls.”

Independent U.S. Senator Bernie Sanders has been slapped with the most warning labels of any lawmaker in recent history: radical, socialist, communist, crazy Bernie, unelectable, fringe, populist demagogue.

I imagine him as one of those VW Kombis, covered in stickers and decals from every state and national park it has visited, rolling along just fine.

His record as a public servant outshines many lawmakers.

As Mayor of Burlington, Vermont, he championed the creation of the country’s first municipal housing land trust, ensuring local homes stay affordable.

His administration stopped developers from constructing luxury high-rises and instead turned the Lake Champlain area into public parks, bike paths, and community spaces.

As an Independent member of both houses of Congress for more than 35 years, Sanders has sponsored over 900 and co-sponsored nearly 6,000 bills. Of the 223 bills that have been enacted into law, the following stand out:

Secured $11 billion in total funding to improve healthcare in underserved communities in the Affordable Care Act of 2010.

Veterans’ Access, Choice and Accountability Act of 2014, which expanded medical facilities, hired physicians, and allowed veterans to seek private care when VA wait times are too long.

Older Americans Act Reauthorization of 2016, which protected and expanded vital senior services, elder abuse prevention, and caregiver support programs.

Authored an amendment to Dodd-Frank that audited the Federal Reserve’s emergency lending in 2008 and uncovered over $16 trillion in secret bailout loans.

I never voted for Bernie Sanders, yet he is just one of the many whose advocacy would have served the people well if labels hadn’t scared voters.

WOKE

In recent years, no label has been weaponized more than “woke.” Absolutely radioactive.

In 1938, in an interview that accompanied his song Scottsboro Boys, blues musician Leadbelly said, “I advise everybody, be a little careful when they go along through there — best stay woke, keep their eyes open.”

Nothing political, a practical word of caution.

William Melvin Kelley’s 1962 New York Times essay, “If You’re Woke You Dig It,” gave the term its first political treatment and introduced readers to Black slang.

In its original African American vernacular usage, “woke” meant alert to racial injustice and prejudice. A warning to stay vigilant.

It was not meant as a general political identity.

What is so bad and scary about being aware of racial injustice?

If labels serve as warnings of dangers, this one is on point.

How the left and the right exploited this term as an all-purpose weapon weakened democratic causes and added another layer of injustice.

How The GOP Labels Themselves

Voters love labels and slogans that identify them with freedom, prosperity, inclusion, law and order, patriotism, and any other you can think of that pines for the “good old days.”

Can we agree that the ideal “good old days” exclude all kinds and types of minorities? Or that they were expected to behave a certain way?

Fiscal conservatives and Deficit Hawks — Prudent managers of taxpayer dollars who will keep the national budget balanced and do away with wasteful spending. The truth?

Historically, federal deficits have increased more under GOP administrations.

Stripped of necessary spending due to crises such as the 2008 GFC and COVID-19, the biggest increases in federal deficits year over year were:

Reagan Administration — 62%

Bush Sr. Administration — 44%

Bush Jr. Administration — 139%

Trump 1 Administration — 26%

Tax cuts benefiting the wealthy contributed to this deficit.

In 2004, the bottom 20% of households received a $250 tax cut.

The middle 20% got $1,090.

In contrast, the top 1% received $78,460

The top 0.1% received about $520,000.

The deficits provided the richest taxpayers more than 300 times what the middle class received.

Chew on these numbers for a second and decide how responsible these self-proclaimed fiscal conservatives really are.

Champions of blue-collar workers — Conservative legislative records consistently oppose working-class bargaining power.

National Right to Work Act — H.R. 1200 / S. 532 — legislative attempt to repeal provisions that allow unions and employers to negotiate “union security” clauses. This misleadingly named act cuts off union funding streams while legally forcing those same unions to represent non-paying workers for free.

Freeloading, plain and simple.

Employee Rights Act — H.R. 2700 / S. 1201 — Federal bill designed to weaken union power by restricting how labor organizations communicate with workers and fund political actions.

Filibuster & Blockade of the PRO Act — H.R. 842 / S. 420 — The Richard L. Trumka Protecting the Right to Organize (PRO) Act sought to override state “right-to-work” laws and restrict employer interference in union elections, but GOP Senate leadership either blocked or maintained a filibuster against the bill.

Blockade of the Raise the Wage Act — H.R. 603 / S. 53 — Act to incrementally raise the federal minimum wage from $7.25 to $17 per hour, which GOP leadership has repeatedly blocked from reaching floor votes or filibustered in the Senate.

GOP lawmakers authored and sponsored the first two acts to bust and diminish labor unions, and they blocked or filibustered the last two acts meant to benefit the labor force.

Talk about championing blue-collar workers.

Defenders of the Constitution & Freedom — Defending liberties against government overreach.

In reality, the GOP believes in and embraces expansive presidential power when in office and even promotes legal loopholes to protect the executive branch from accountability and oversight.

The freedom they frequently invoke is for business deregulation and lower taxes while actively limiting personal freedom when it comes to reproductive healthcare, personal identity rights, voting rights, and freedom of religion.

Selective freedom for the rich and the few.

The Party of Law and Order — Presenting the party as the protector of public safety and police enforcement.

Of the 237 clemency grants during the first Trump administration, 209 went to individuals with personal, political, or financial ties to Trump. Only 25 of the clemency grants went through the traditional DOJ Office of the Pardon Attorney vetting process.

The second Trump Administration outdid itself by granting blanket pardons to those charged or convicted in the January 6 Capitol insurrection. At the same time, these pardons erased $1.3 billion plus in financial restitution, fines, and forfeitures owed to federal treasuries and fraud victims.

Beyond The Labels

These are just a few of the most glaring instances where labels have poisoned the political process. They have served the interests of a select few while leaving the majority of us worse off.

It’s not uncommon to hear people declare, either naively or seemingly in contrition, “This is not what I voted for.” To which the only sane response is, “Yes, you did; this is exactly what you voted for.”

A politician’s intention is impossible to ascertain; that’s why he is a politician. But they all have a record of what they have done in the past or how they stood on issues.

This is the only way they should all be judged and get our votes: not on the labels they drape on themselves or labels they’ve been tagged with.

This label-slapping exercise repeats itself very predictably every election cycle. Campaigns solicit and hoard money, lots of money, from their rich donors motivated by policies that will assure their status.

We cannot all believe and agree on the same thing, but when it comes to the truth, there is no left or right. It is always dead center, staring us in the face out in the open, and if it’s not, uncovering it makes us wiser in the long run.

Do Not Read The Labels was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I once checked out an audiobook on learning basic Chinese, and for a couple of days I tried to learn at least a word or two. It was hard; I gave up the learning part, but I didn’t return the book. Instead, I found myself enjoying the sound of every word. I’d walk around for blocks repeating after the narrator.

Next was a book in German — strasse, über, gutig. Italian — la strada, sopra, gentile. Arabic — shari, fawq, lateef. French — la rue, sur, bon.

It’s amazing. Different peoples, separated by all kinds of barriers, sharing the same experiences, ideas, and emotions. We all came up with the same tool and used it the same way.

I picture the beginning of man, and the need to survive made us discover, develop, adopt, and adapt tools. Our brain built us our first tool: the word.

From gestures and grunts to words, and finally language. I imagine that was how it happened. Maybe not, but convince me otherwise.

Words became a foundation of life — our need to relate to each other for survival.

Words have never stopped being our best tool yet. They are so powerful and vast, yet freely available to everybody.

Over 7,000 languages are spoken around the world today; that translates to around 1.4 billion root words.

English alone has over 500,000 recorded words in its dictionaries, with a new term coined roughly every 98 minutes, not to mention shifting usages. I personally prefer: let’s breakfast or bedding now — just me.

The average person navigates their entire life using less than 7% of that available vocabulary.

The Power of Words

“Raise your word, not your voice” — Rumi

We do not need obscure or complex words to express something powerful and profound. Short, everyday words endure and are easier to remember.

Stephen King cites a 50-word passage, with but 29 distinct words, only 11 of which are 2 syllables and the rest monosyllabic.

“Some of the owner men were kind because they hated what they had to do, and some of them were angry because they hated to be cruel, and some of them were cold because they had long ago found that one could not be an owner unless one were cold.” — John Steinbeck, Grapes of Wrath

Words are neutral on their own. In the right hands, they can build, heal, soothe, and inspire. In the wrong hands, they can harm, break, and divide.

Paraphrasing Orwell: if thought can corrupt words, words can just as easily corrupt thought.

Words can give us hope and courage, if only for the moment when we read or hear something that catches our attention.

“May you always stay in touch with things that keep you young / When you’re staring at injustice may you never bite your tongue,” — R. Crowell (Flyboy and The Kid)

At the other extreme, it can lead to surrender and paralysis, which devastates us when it affects so-called leaders who are supposed to be there for us.

“It is not necessary to accept everything as true; one must only accept it as necessary.” — F. Kafka(The Trial)

Two groups of people are, without a doubt, masters in the art of harnessing the power of words. One is exalted, the other hated.

Great storytellers and poets gather and arrange words to reveal truths and give voice to every human experience, whether positive or negative, in uplifting ways. Words used this way earn universal respect across cultures and ages.

“I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.” — E.M. Forster(A Room with a View)

Politicians, propagandists, and demagogues are the biggest exploiters of words. They belong in a lump that uses the same craft for power, distortion, fear, and every means to divide us. A stinky, disgusting lump, we must avoid totally unless we find ourselves face deep in it.

The Bible is one of the clearest examples of the power of words. It has inspired, consoled, and guided people toward compassion, but it has also governed behavior, instilled fear, legitimized hate, and demanded obedience.

Choose Your Words

“Handle them carefully, for words have more power than atom bombs.”— Pearl S. Buck (Nobel Laureate in Literature)

Whether it exists or not, there is a word for it.

Petrichor, the smell of parched earth after rain.

Sonder is the feeling and realization that total strangers’ lives are as complicated as ours.

Both exist, one physical, the other emotional.

Utopia: an ideal place that is ‘no place’

Words give us options to capture that “this is how I feel now” moment.

Apprehension when asked to bring your family’s signature dish to a potluck party as you set your tray at the table. Dread as guests bypass it entirely. Panic as your tray is still untouched after everyone has gone for seconds.

Words have their toolkit.

The ‘nym’ word is one. Perfect for organizing, balancing, and occasionally confusing the words we use every day.

We are all familiar with synonyms, antonyms, and homonyms; here are a couple I personally find interesting.

Contronym — a word that is its own opposite (cleave: to split apart, or to cling together; dust: to add fine particles, or to remove them)

Xenonym — a term borrowed directly from a foreign language to describe a concept, thing, or customs that the native language has no word for. (Faux pas, karma, sushi)

A new favorite of mine, Genshai: Sanskrit — the practice of never treating another person or yourself in a way that makes them feel small, diminished, or less than human. Truly a beautiful word I will always keep in mind.

Words chosen in haste, crafted with care, or recklessness shaped some of history’s most consequential documents.

In 1776, Thomas Jefferson’s draft of the Declaration of Independence grounded human equality in religion and natural law. “We hold these truths to be sacred & undeniable; that all men are created equal & independant [sic]…”

Benjamin Franklin revised it based on logic and reason. “We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created equal & independant [sic]…”

I will leave it up to you to find the right words for what they meant by “that all men are created equal and independent”

Intentional vagueness is used to evade commitment or buy time. It is the way of a weasel.

Politicians and diplomats dress it up as strategic ambiguity. The result is always the same: conflicts and disasters.

On October 24, 1915, Sir Henry McMahon promised Sharif Hussein of Mecca an independent Arab state, using imprecise exclusions that led Arabs to believe Palestine was included. McMahon later conceded in a 1922 letter that he only “hoped” his draft made the exclusion “sufficiently clear.”

By 1917, Britain issued the Balfour Declaration, pledging the same land as a “national home for the Jewish people.” Two conflicting promises, full of ambiguity, over one piece of land and a century of unending war.

Working their way in and out of relationships, I have always reminded my two young adult kids to watch what comes out of their mouths in moments of anger and disagreement.

You cannot take back words that hurt and demean. The other person can not unhear those words.

The relationship will be like drinking from a favorite glass with multiple cracks; sooner or later you get tired of looking at that glass, and you just toss it. Gone.

The Beauty of Words

Words are the voice of the heart — Anonymous.

Works of literature and songs define us from the rest of every creature that we share this earth with. Ancient chronicles, poems, and songs. This is how cultures and traditions survive.

The world’s oldest known written narrative literature is the Epic of Gilgamesh, written around 2100 BCE. The tale of a tyrannical king in search of immortality. This first known written story predates other consequential tools like the alphabet, paper, and compass.

The oldest known song, lyrics with musical notation, is the Hurrian Hymn №6, composed around 1400 BCE. It’s a prayer to the Sumerian goddess of orchards and fruits.

We love stories, whether in pure narrative, a poem, or a song. How many times has it been said that when telling stories, show, don’t tell. With the right words, we can evoke or capture a feeling.

When a moment leaves us breathless, or our spirit is momentarily sucked out of us, we find ourselves at a loss for the proper words. Yet there are words for that. We become speechless, undone, or we curse with the usual, even add new ones to our vocabulary of expletives.

Looked out my window just now and noticed my butterfly garden in full bloom. Milkweeds, Black-eyed Susans, coneflowers, and blazing stars with colors so alive and bright; butterflies and bees can’t help but get attracted to them. Words helped me imagine a conversation between the plants and their visitors. This gives voice to something beautiful I am watching now.

Words Play Too

…Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third… — Abbott and Costello

No word play or comedy routine has endured as long as the Who’s on first by Abbott and Costello. First broadcast in 1938, it is as funny today. Look it up if you haven’t heard it.

Stand-up comedians rely solely on words to entertain — no elaborate props, on-stage supporting casts, just a microphone and the artist. George Carlin, a unique grammarian, is a master at exposing the absurdity of people exploiting and misunderstanding words while making people laugh and think.

Yogi Berra, a Hall of Fame baseball player, is so famous for coming up with verbal paradoxes that Yogisms is the official name for his funny and profound observations.

“The future ain’t what it used to be.” — Yogi Berra.

As a competition, the annual Spelling Bee has gained enough recognition as entertainment that it now airs in primetime on TV. Pre-teen kids seem to play with words that are alien to most of us.

Word-based board games like Scrabble and Boggle remain a constant in many households as a better choice for families to spend quality time together.

These wordplay types show the versatility of words, limited only by our imagination; from phonetic & sound-based (puns, malapropisms), structural & letter-based (palindromes, anagrams), semantic & meaning-based (oxymorons, double entendres), and logic & rhetorical paradoxes (Yogisms, Irish bulls)

Like you, I have to know what an Irish bull is. It is a completely illogical statement that contradicts itself, yet it makes sense. “If I were dead and buried, I’d be happy if I could just see my own funeral.”

Remember the one-syllable words in the John Steinbeck passage above? Monosyllabic. 5 syllables to describe a one-syllable word. How funny and great is that?

Words are endless. “A word is dead when it is said, some say. I say it just begins to live that day.”
 — Emily Dickinson

I Love Words was originally published in Activated Thinker on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Napoleon Bonaparte, Adolf Hitler, and Saddam Hussein are powerful leaders with a common flaw: they deluded themselves into thinking they could control everything and achieve glory.

Napoleon had a huge ego, but he was brought down by disease and logistical failures in Russia’s harsh winter conditions.

Adolf Hitler believed in creating a “Thousand-Year Reich” based on ideas of racial and territorial superiority. He fell due to the same harsh Russian conditions and the world’s determination to stop evil.

Saddam Hussein started an unnecessary war for regional power, overestimating his army’s strength and his own authority.

All three men thought that military strength alone would give them control and dominance. Historian Barbara Tuchman called this ‘wooden-headedness’ — a refusal to heed contrary signs, highlighting how overconfidence blinds the powerful to danger.

Lessons In History We Keep Ignoring

In a July 24, 2026 interview on the Mishal Husain podcast, Oxford historian Peter Frankopan is calling our attention to this foolishness once more. He asserts bluntly, “powerful men often miscalculate.”

The statement was made in the context of the current US-Iran war, unnecessary and getting more costly every day.

From the Vietnam War through the Russian invasion of Ukraine and the ongoing US-Iran War, miscalculations are disastrous and result in unintended consequences.

Putin, Xi, and Trump are the most powerful men in the world today.

Russia commands the world’s largest nuclear arsenal, roughly 5,500 nuclear warheads. China maintains the world’s largest active-duty standing military, with approximately 2 million personnel. The United States, aside from a $900+ billion defense budget, has the world’s largest national economy and global influence.

War of Choice

A war of choice is never waged against a nation considered equal in strength.

All available policy options, such as diplomacy, sanctions, and containment, are disregarded when powerful leaders assume that their military and political superiority will yield quick results.

Once the judgment call to fight is made, non-existential threats are magnified or made up, and verifying the evidence of the threat is unimportant.

The burden and costs to the nation are minimized. Lives lost are sold as the prize of patriotism and honored with lots of flag waving. Loved ones left behind receive the automated ‘thoughts and prayers’of leaders who cost them nothing but leave no solace or value for families.

War of Survival

A smaller nation defending its existence fights with an all-out war mindset. It unifies its society around one goal. Survival.

A defending nation has the advantage of familiar territory, weather patterns, and shorter logistical distances. They prevail by using indirect, irregular strategies to negate the gap in resources.

They deploy cheap, flexible technologies and simultaneously seek international patrons. These alliances eventually become problematic.

The smaller nation transforms the war into an exhausting test of endurance, forcing the superpower to spend unsustainable amounts of money, equipment, and political capital until it eventually cuts its losses and leaves. An off-ramp, so-called, as if the invasion was just another leisurely drive.

Unlike an invading power that must constantly convince its public and allies that mounting costs are justified, a defending nation need not convince anyone that its independence, culture, and existence are worth immense destruction, economic collapse, and unimaginable human loss.

This is what historian Peter Frankopan identified as an asymmetric capacity to absorb pain.

Why Powerful Men Start Wars of Choice

Personal glory and lust for a place in history.

Oversized ego believing that ‘muscles and brainpower’ are enough to control events. The conflict turns catastrophic when the leader is an obvious fool but an effective demagogue.

Powerful leaders surround themselves with loyalists and weak, unprincipled yes men of all sorts. This insulates them from reality and rely instead on propaganda and bluster

A leader also starts such wars to pump up supporters, divert attention from himself and failing domestic policies, and tighten his stranglehold on the system.

Putin and his Wars

The Russian leader, across his tenure as Prime Minister and President for the last 27 years, has launched or escalated 5 distinct wars of choice. Incidentally, he will remain in office as President until 2036.

From the second Chechen war in 1999, which lasted 10 years, to the present Ukraine war that has gone on for 4, Putin’s wars of choice and their unintended consequences have cost his people greatly.

An estimated 400,000 to over 500,000 military and civilian deaths, while leaving more than one millionadditional soldiers wounded, captured, or incapacitated.

Roughly $2.5 trillion economic impact, factoring in lost GDP growth. (Defense News/UC Berkeley)

Over $300 billion in foreign central bank assets remain frozen under international sanctions, and

Moscow remains cut off from Western capital markets.

An estimated 500,000 to 1,000,000 young, skilled, and educated workers fled Russia in 2022 alone.

Instead of pushing NATO away, Putin’s invasion of Ukraine produced the opposite result: Finland and Sweden joined the alliance. Finland’s border with Russia more than doubled NATO’s direct land borderwith Russia.

Trump and his Wars

Trump, across his 2 non-consecutive terms, has conducted numerous military operations/strikes that were designed to deliver immediate shock and project raw power.

From the very first military action in 2017 against Shayrat Air Base inside Syria, to the capture of Venezuelan dictator Maduro in 2026, his unilateral decisions bypassed normal congressional authorization and skipped interagency vetting — an unabashed strongman move.

Strategically, these tactical displays caused regional volatility and strained America’s relationships with its historic allies. Mutual security guarantees and NATO commitments were treated as protection rackets.

In February 2026, the US and Israel launched a war against Iran. Originally framed as a pre-emptive self-defense strike that would last weeks, it has since devolved into an ongoing, ever-changing war of confused strategies.

On multiple occasions, Trump has claimed annihilation of Iran’s military while seeking several ceasefires and truces.

Iran responded to the United States’s superior firepower and precision airstrikes by closing the Strait of Hormuz using inexpensive irregular methods such as sea mines, attack speedboats, and anti-ship drones. Asymmetry.

Iran’s nuclear program appears to be intact; the regime has consolidated power in a younger, more radical group while the US and the rest of the world await whether this regional conflict resolves or escalates.

To date, this war of choice has cost US taxpayers over $113 billion, 18 killed and 620 wounded service members. It has depleted high-end precision missiles and air-defense interceptors that, according to munitions contractors, would take 3–4 years to replace.

Nothing illustrates this asymmetry better than expending $2–4 million interceptors to shoot down $20,000 Iranian drones. Simply unsustainable.

As for U.S. consumers, fuel costs alone add $600-$1,000 in out-of-pocket expenses.

Xi and China

While Putin and Trump have been flexing, unnecessarily using up financial, military, and political capital, Xi has pursued institutional expansion and consolidated resources while strengthening his grip on authority.

China presents itself as a dependable, neutral economic partner to the Global South. Home to 3.5 billion people, these developing nations provide the world with essential agricultural and industrial labor — alongside vast potential as a reserve of military and security personnel.

China is dominant in the global race for critical rare earth minerals required for 21st-century technology:

70% global output in mining.

90% global share in separation and refining

90% market share in magnet manufacturing

80% global patent filings related to rare earth processing and applications

To eliminate the effects of Western blockades and trade sanctions, China is building a global trade network that bypasses U.S. financial clearinghouses and maritime choke points.

Chinese overseas farmland holdings include nearly 8 million acres under contract, with nearly 7 million acres in active crop production across Africa, Asia, and Latin America.

It built modern processing facilities, ports, and rail infrastructure across 2 continents to streamline the export of raw agricultural products directly to China. This ensures developing nations remain partners to China rather than aligning with the West.

China’s expansion is neither an act of global benevolence nor a passive economic policy.

It is securing the foundational resources — food, trade routes, and financial independence — required to sustain its power in any future conflict.

Singaporean diplomat and academic Kishore Mahbubani has the most focused observations on the U.S.-China dynamic for the future. He observed, among other things:

Two thousand years of Chinese strategic culture advising against fighting unnecessary wars in distant places.

The current global situation resembles the Cold War, but instead of the U.S. uniting international support, it is now acting independently like the former Soviet Union, disregarding global opinion.

Finally, let me leave you with his thought about the present US-Iran war:

“Every war the United States fights, especially in the Middle East, is a gift to China.”

Powerful Men was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

March 1977. Barely a year after the Bicentennial. A peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia, was a couple of months into his presidency, having been elected by a hopeful but skeptical nation post-Vietnam and Watergate. ‘What’s next?’ seemed to be on most minds.

For regular people, life went on as usual. Gas was quite affordable for guzzlers such as the Cutlass, Impala, and Caprice. Our family moved about in one car — a dull yellow, white-topped 1972 Ford Galaxie. As it is now, back then the phone was crucial in homes, either rotary or touch-tone, with coiled cords — the longer the better.

Disco was getting some play, but rock and roll still ruled FM radio. And if you happened to be in Maryland, this was a very good year.

California’s Laurel Canyon in Maryland in the spring and summer of 1977.

Capital Centre in Landover and Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia: two venues about 45 minutes apart along I-95. Two of the best live performances for my money, bar none, happened there.

March 21, 1977

On this first day of spring, The Eagles brought their Hotel California tour to the Capital Centre for a sold-out, two-night stand. The price of admission was around $10. A hot dog or a burger was about $0.50 and $0.75. Soda and beer were between $0.35 and $0.75. Cigarettes were sold right next to the popcorn. Did I not tell you this was a good year?

The set list was essentially a greatest hits compilation, but three performances stood out.

Mention The Eagles to anyone who cares, and it is always Don Henley and Glenn Frey, but on this particular night, the three other members made the evening memorable.

I do not know about you, but when I watch a live concert, I expect the songs to sound as close as possible to the studio version, with the Grateful Dead as the lone exception.

“Hotel California” opened the set and immediately set the tone for a night to remember. The stage was dark except for an outline of an old Spanish Mission building, palm trees, and the slow, haunting riff of an acoustic guitar.

When the stage lit up, Don Felder, with his white double-neck guitar, and Joe Walsh, playing a Stratocaster, were standing just off-center to the right, doing their thing.

Before the second verse, their guitar harmonies were clearly guiding the song, trading short licks and harmonizing throughout.

Immediately after Don Henley sang, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave,” the outro and guitar duel were on.

Felder and Walsh traded increasingly intense licks, harmonizing their guitars in equal parts. We all have a Mt. Rushmore of our favorite things; this two-plus-minute guitar wizardry is secured in my list of greatest guitar solos.

The clear winner in this duel was Joe Walsh for a few distinct reasons: a long slide with his pick from the body to the nut that drove the crowd wild, a hard dig on a single note about seven times that sounded as if he were using a talk box, and the facial contortions that perfectly matched the intensity of every note. Pure Joe Walsh.

“Lyin’ Eyes,” the ultimate representation of California rock, was a perfect combination of Glenn Frey’s chill, storytelling vocals and Don Felder’s guitar genius.

Felder used different strumming and picking techniques for every single verse. To start the second verse, he hit a high note and made his guitar sigh. Absolutely distinct. The guitar bridge to every verse was uniquely Felder — unnoticed by some, but incredibly effective. By the fourth verse, he was pick-rolling on his guitar like a mandolin.

“Take It To the Limit,” a song Randy Meisner composed that became his signature piece, elevated the show even further. The contrast was hard to miss as soon as he stepped up to the microphone.

Playing bass while singing in a high-pitched voice, he sustained a soaring falsetto toward the end of the track. Frey, one of the acknowledged leaders of the band sitting at the piano just behind Meisner, was visibly delighted with the performance; he smiled widely, nodding in total awe and approval.

Randy Meisner, Don Felder and Joe Walsh completely owned this particular stop of the tour.

August 27, 1977

As if some higher power did the scheduling for the spring-summer music calendar in Maryland, what The Eagles opened in March would be closed toward the end of summer by another Laurel Canyon royalty: Jackson Browne.

In the middle of a full summer tour, Jackson Browne made a one-night stop at the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia. Unlike the Eagles, his band was a group of well-respected, “no-name” session players.

Much like what happened on March 21, three of his band members provided the definitive moment of the night on a single track. One song.

Their moments were brief and might have been forever forgotten had this night not been recorded for Jackson Browne’s upcoming concept album, Running on Empty.

In my opinion, Running on Empty belongs on a Mt. Rushmore of concept albums right alongside Sgt. Pepper’s. (I am done with Mt. Rushmore for now, I promise.)

As the night was coming to an end, one encore after another, the crowd kept asking for more. With the band out of rehearsed encore material, lore has it that drummer Russell Kunkel suggested right then and there that they try an unfinished song Jackson was still tinkering with.

“The Load-Out” — a song Browne would describe years later in a Rolling Stone interview as a love letter to his crew — woven seamlessly into the 1960 hit “Stay,” became the night’s fitting finale.

He sat down at his piano, took a sip from a glass of wine, placed it on the floor, and as soon as he hit that first note on the keys, the crowd realized they got their wish.

After a couple of verses, the master of the lap-steel guitar, David Lindley, was spotlighted with a melancholic solo for about 30 seconds. Close your eyes, and the sound of that lap steel in Lindley’s hands perfectly describes how lonely life is on the road.

After a few more verses, keyboardist Craig Doerge livened up the mood considerably, utilizing a high-pitched, synthesized effect on his electric piano that sounded like a hybrid wind and string instrument.

Lindley and Doerge soon equally shared the spotlight with Browne, harmonizing their instruments with Browne’s vocals, perfectly segueing into “Stay.”

As the band transitioned into the song, backup singer Rosemary Butler can be seen gracefully making her way from the dark area of the stage to the microphone, and began keeping time by tapping with both hands on the mic stand.

In a mere 20 seconds, she breathtakingly claimed the song as her own. Any other way to describe it would be an understatement. As soon as she was done, she walked away from the spotlight.

In today’s entertainment vibes, this was a clear ‘mic drop’ moment.

But it wasn’t over. David Lindley would showcase another talent that had the crowd cheering even more wildly.

Stepping away from his lap steel, he approached the center mic and repeated the chorus in a piercing, almost cartoonish falsetto, complete with a dramatic hand gesture as he sang, “just a little bit longer.”

From there, Lindley and Doerge took the song all the way to the finish line in perfect instrumental harmony.

David Lindley, Craig Doerge, and Rosemary Butler, three unrecognizable names to most casual fans. On this night, in a single song, their stars shone the brightest.

It was a good night, a perfect night.

I own three of David Lindley’s four solo albums and one album from The Section, Jackson Browne’s brilliant backup band on this night. I will never forget Rosemary Butler for that spectacular 20 seconds; it is the purest homage I can pay.

In the spring and summer of 1977, I was 19 and nowhere near Landover or Columbia, Maryland. In fact, I had not seen them live until later. Their music, on the other hand, was part of my youth and early adulthood. Literally, music I grew up with. I collected their albums and placed myself at times as a character in a few of their songs.

Now that I can watch them over and over, anytime, noticing different details now and then, their space in my memories is getting more special. How would I have reacted if I were there with the rest of the crowd? Constantly cheering, whooping it up, smoking and singing along.

Would the experience have been different if I heard the songs for the first time, or would the experience be better if I heard the albums first, then watched how it sounded live?

Landover’s Capital Centre is gone now, torn down years ago to make room for a mall. Merriweather Post Pavilion is still there, still hosting shows, a beloved amphitheater.

Late 80s, Jackson Browne came to the Chicago area; by this time I had seen him twice. I went a third time, sneaked in early enough to watch a full mic, equipment test, and rehearsal.

I have seen a few big acts over the years, but I would gladly trade any of those for those two special nights in spring and summer in Maryland in 1977.

Spring/Summer, Maryland, 1977 was originally published in Activated Thinker on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

AGING AND TIME

“Aging and its evidence remain life’s most predictable events, yet they also remain matters we prefer to leave unmentioned, unexplored.” — J. Didion

A popular Benjamin Franklin quote reminds us that nothing in this world is certain except death and taxes, but ‌aging belongs at the very top of that list. Unlike death, which shows up unannounced, and taxes, which you can avoid nowadays if you can afford an expensive accountant, aging gives us plenty of warning.

It arrives in stages, offering a slow, daily accumulation of physical evidence that we can choose to ignore, deny, or mask.

As long as we are alive, aging will present evidence, and we are the verdict.

I’ve done my share of ignoring, denying, and masking. I did not choose a primary doctor until I was 48. Started annual wellness checks at 53.

Masking? I collected a lot of baseball caps.

So how do we usually react as we age?

Panic at the first sign of wrinkles on our face, shock at the struggle to fit into our favorite outfit, and deep sadness as we gradually lose control.

What do we get from society? Euphemisms, cliches, and staged images from corporations that want to sell us stuff during our “graceful transitions” to our “golden years”.

Nothing is more annoying.

Let us honestly talk about it. The loss of stamina, changes in our physical appearance, aches and pains in joints we didn’t even know we have are the inevitable fulfillment of time.

The aches and pains brought me a lot of anxiety at first, and for a while. There was a time when I was certain I would not live to be 60.

I am a very angry guy when I am in pain.

Still, I resolved not to surrender to medications to relieve the aches and pains, or get a very comfortable rocking chair to soothe them.

For the first time in my life, I explored yoga, tai chi, and qigong on YouTube. Nothing structured or set routines, just whatever my aging body can tolerate and whichever body part needs attention.

Any one of these 3 disciplines always seems to have a specific move that can target any ache or pain.

Strength and muscle building became part of my daily routine too with static and dynamic bodyweight exercises. No gym membership or Lululemon outfits. Just me at home, in any available space.

I’m not doing these to look good, but to feel good. And when I’m pain-free, I remind myself, “this is how I should feel every day”.

My primary doctor and I had a clear understanding from the very first day we met. Absolutely no prescription medications unless it’s a matter of life or death.

I once asked him about the benefits of vitamins and supplements; he gave me Joel Furman’s Eat to Live. My eating preferences and habits changed for the better.

Mental maintenance became just as important as the physical. I started practicing meditation on my own, the same way — searching through YouTube for anything that felt right.

From here, I adopted a simple, non-negotiable rule: starting and ending each day with absolute silence. Best achieved by being up no later than 4 AM.

It keeps me from drifting.

The river of noise is wide and deep. It creeps then rages.

No day is perfect, and some are harder than others, but I am confident about owning my self-maintenance. My resources are basic and cost nothing but time.

“Old age and the passage of time teach all things.” — Sophocles

I was driving my 2005 Toyota Camry, which has 244,000 miles on it, when my sentimental side started thinking: this car is as old as me, if not older, in human years.

Financially, it has no value anymore; my insurance will only cover liability. But I found myself thanking the car anyway. I bought it to invest in time, and I maintained it well. It never failed to get me to wherever I had to be. It never lost its primary value.

I’ll be 70 next year. What is my primary value, or any human for that matter?

As my life flashed before me, only the second time- the first was when another car before the Toyota got totaled when I got T-boned-it’s clear the answer is not that simple.

Right after birth, our lives diverge in directions predetermined by our circumstances. A child raised in a family of doctors, lawyers, pro athletes, and artists will be steered toward their parents’ professions.

A child born into poverty faces a different set of odds entirely. Fewer resources, less access to opportunity, and more obstacles. Escaping that generational trap is nothing short of a miracle.

What’s true for everyone is that from the moment we are born, we begin to absorb knowledge, build physical strength, form habits, and lay the foundations of life.

Time is doing its work on all of us from childhood through full adulthood.

Time treats us all the same. Each one of us gets equal parts, no more, no less.

How we manage and use time is critical. I can only say this now that there’s plenty of experience to look back on.

In my youth, I couldn’t wait to be an adult. I wanted licenses. Official licenses, you can only have as an adult, and ‘licenses’ you automatically enjoy as an adult.

I can’t wait to stop listening to my parents and grown-ups. I was too smart for them, or so I thought.

Looking back, one of my biggest regrets is not reading more when I was younger; I missed out on so many worlds and insights.

“If I knew then what I know now” hits home for me, not for the regrets but for the lessons that are clearer now.

THE BEAUTY OF AGING

I have never felt better than I did in my mid-40s. A result of my conscious effort to get healthier and take better care of myself, not just for me, but so I would not become a burden to my family.

I began to appreciate more fully the good things that come with aging.

Being healthy helped me get better at aging.

Youth makes us eager to be independent; over time, that independence is more meaningful with perspective. Something that can only happen with aging.

Perspective is the biggest reason older adults give better advice. Human nature has not changed. Many crises or dilemmas have appeared before in one form or variation.

When a senior says, “I’ve seen them all,” it is wise to believe and take their advice.

Aging makes us more specific about what we appreciate and more aware of what is normally taken for granted.

We appreciate small moments that helped us build and shape our lives and the lives of those we love.

Proper perspective that comes with aging means that even setbacks become a guide to a better direction.

Throughout history, leaders have turned to elder statesmen in moments of crisis.

During the Cuban Missile Crisis, 45-year-old President Kennedy explicitly sought the strategic perspective of elder statesmen like 69-year-old Dean Acheson, drawing on their decades of experience negotiating with the Soviets.

After leaving office, Nelson Mandela became a sought-after elder statesman. In 2007, on his 89th birthday, he founded The Elders with other major world figures to bring senior judgment to global problems.

Priorities have a way of sorting themselves out over time. In youth, a hundred different things feel incredibly urgent and demand immediate action.

In old age, we see how those hundred urgent things that have come and gone without changing our lives. Our brain stops wasting energy and focuses only on what is truly important.

The need for other people’s approval shrinks, too. A top benefit of aging.

At a certain point, the things that make us happy and the things that aggravate us become non-negotiable.

Our boundaries are set; no one will convince us to change them.

Is this where the expression “grumpy old man” finds its territory? I do not know, and I do not care.

None of what we have learned and survived belongs only to us. We are all consequences of those who were here before us.

No one stands alone in their own time. How many times have we heard someone of note thanking those who set the table for them, or how they are standing on the shoulders of the generation before them?

This is how progress moves, not in one dramatic leap, but in a long, unbroken chain of ordinary people passing forward whatever they managed to earn, fix, or learn in their time.

Aging is a record of what we did with time, for better or worse; its consequences will affect those who come after us.

Enjoy and take pride in what is truly golden about having lived this long.

Senior-citizen discounts and other perks are good, but they are not what we earned over the years.

Ignore the sales pitches meant to milk us one last time for our resources.

And never let anyone convince you that the benefits we deserve are entitlements.

Aging softens everything.

The global population of people aged 60 and older is projected to grow from one billion in 2020 to 1.4 billion by 2030 and 2.1 billion by 2050.

By the late 2070s, people 65 and older will outnumber every child under 18 on the planet.

In the United States, adults 65 and older already outnumber children in 11 states — up from just three in 2020 — and nearly half of all American counties have crossed that threshold.

This will be a kinder, gentler world. There is hope.

Aging and Time was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I remember my early youth in Southeast Asia for two things: my immediate family always seemed to be around each other, and our neighborhood was teeming with household animals. Lots of cats and dogs. They were simply part of everyday life.

Our home was a one-story, flat-roof bungalow. At the back stood a water tank on scaffolding that reached up to the roofline. Whenever Mom and Dad were away, my siblings, cousins, and I would climb that scaffolding and hop easily onto the roof. We played there freely, always watching for our parents in case they came home early.

One day, in a foolish act of childhood, we decided to find out whether there was any truth to the saying that cats have nine lives. We each grabbed a cat and took turns dropping them from the roof. To our amazement, they landed on their feet and walked away as if nothing had happened. We did it a few more times, until climbing up and down the scaffolding became too tiresome and we lost interest.

It did not remain a secret for long. One of my younger cousins told her mother, and soon my parents found out. They gave us a very serious warning not ever to climb the roof again. We never challenged our parents’ warnings; corporal punishment always followed those warnings.

Before I turned thirteen, we moved to the United States. We remained a close-knit family. My parents did not allow pets at home, and I did the same thing when I had my own family. I remember my young daughter once asking for a puppy. When I explained that she would have to clean up after it, she quickly decided it was not for her.

Somewhere along the way, my family began to fray and ultimately broke. There were only four of us, but it was hard to relate to and hold on to each other. We were always confrontational with each other. My two children fought often, which hurt me more than anything else. After my divorce, they chose to stay with me, with the strain and tension ever present.

One day, my daughter came home with two tiny sibling kittens she had adopted from a rescue. They were barely a month old. From that day on, she was different. She was calmer, softer, more even-tempered. She called them her babies.

My son noticed the change too. At first, he would occasionally join when she played with the kittens. Slowly, the two of them began talking again, at first about cats, then about anything and everything.

One afternoon, my daughter opened the door to receive a delivery, and one of the kittens slipped outside without her noticing. I was sitting in the living room when I heard faint meowing. At first, I thought one of the kittens was stuck somewhere inside. The sound never stopped and grew louder.

I looked toward one of the tall windows and saw the plant outside shaking. The kitten was beside it, peering up at the window and pawing at the glass. She was asking to be let back in.

Half joking, I told my daughter that ‘rescuing’ her gave me the right to rename her. She was Skinny from that day on. This tiny creature quickly understood that our home was her home too. However briefly she had wandered, she knew where she was safe.

Not long after, my son adopted a cat of his own, and the change in him was even more remarkable. He would pet him, carry him, and never forget to say, “I love you.” Before long, those words became easier for him to say to his sister and to me as well, especially when he had to be away for a few days.

Skinny grew into an elegant and assertive cat, but the hunter in her was undeniable. Beanie was tender and gentle in every way. And Hobbes, my son’s orange tabby, embodied patience and kindness.

Together, the three of them are always a perfect picture of balance, grace, and calm. Many times, when both kids are away on trips, they were great company.

I would be sitting quietly, working on my laptop or listening to music; Hobbes and Bean were always an arm’s reach away while Skinny was constantly ‘patrolling’ the premises.

There were evenings when all three of us would sit together, watching the cats play. My son would remind us, “These are living, breathing creatures, and they’re with us.” One day, my daughter told her younger brother, her voice almost breaking, how they are closer now than ever.

Beanie, Skinny, and Hobbes changed us. Their innocence, their trust, and their quiet companionship helped restore something missing in our family. They depended on us for care and safety, and in return they reminded us that family must make room for trust, tenderness, and belonging.

Cats have nine lives, and they unselfishly shared three of them with my daughter, son, and me.

Cats Have Nine Lives was originally published in ILLUMINATION on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.