Design a site like this with
Get started

Something as Simple as Walking

Maybe one of the things we lose in suburbia is walking.

Everything is too far to walk to, so machines take us there. Think of NYC. If you live in Manhattan, if you can, you walk. What’s your range? I’m a ten block walker. Under ten, I’ll walk. Over that, I have to think. Depends on how much time I have, the weather, and my shoes.

Some people say walking is not just good for your health. It’s a good way to generate ideas.

Dogs walk. No doubt. So dog owners become dog walkers, and, collaterally, walkers.

Here where I live in suburbia, even though I don’t walk to anything, I do walk. In our neighborhood. In the park. On trails.

Sometimes I run.

The curious thing – no marketing surrounds this, I suppose because no money is to be made.

That’s good.


Two Great Blue Herons

When I see Bob I always think of Dave, now dead four years.

As I would scull north on the Connecticut, just as the view of Hartford closed from the bend in the river, I would turn my head, look upstream, and see the glimmer of Bob’s wooden shell making its way downstream. Dave would always be following a length behind.

The way the blades of the oars arc over the river toward the bow of a scull, it’s like a great bird in flight, just skimming the surface of the water.

Sometimes I would cross over the river toward the west bank of the river, just below Bob and Dave, row to them at a diagonal, and race. I could never catch Bob, but I could often match Dave stroke for stroke for at least a mile, but then I would fade. I looked over my shoulder and watched them disappear downstream.

Five years ago Dave started to slow down. I mentioned this to him on the dock after I had beaten him there.

“He has lung cancer,” Bob whispered in my ear.

A few weeks later the sculling season ended and Dave never returned to the river.

This morning I watched Bob pass me alone downstream as I sculled north. I did not cross over. An hour later when I reached the dock, Bob was long gone, his scull already carried up to the boathouse and stored away.

I stood on the dock and watched two Great Blue Herons gliding south just above the surface of the river. They both turned right in tandem, headed to me, turned again, and continued north, disappearing from my view.


The hard thing about living in a four season climate is the short, dark days. But they make the spring days, all blossoms and perfumes, all the better.

KINDRED. Real Connections.

I’ve often set my compass by something Anais Nin said,

“Life shrinks or expands according to one’s courage.”

To play a variation on her theme:

Life shrinks or expands according to one’s relationships.

For the last year, we’ve been developing KINDRED, a social connection game, based on personal storytelling. We beta tested a version called CONNECT. We sat with people who were family, friends, strangers and watched the ways they embraced the experience. We added here, adjusted there, edited, and tested.

What we saw universally was the mix of joy, meaning, kindness that arose as people connected. The deeper the connections, the greater the riches.

We hope to see people’s lives expand as KINDRED begins its journey.


In London, Aisha Jawando as Tina Turner sings, “You Better Be Good to Me,” a cover of Tina’s cover of Holly Knight’s original. The same song – lyrics and melody – each time, but each time her own.

In London, my daughter weaves her way down the steps, minds the gap, boards a train on the Central Line, covering the ground I walked thirty years ago. The same city – streets and neighborhoods – but I have my London, and she has hers.