So, you’ve tried yoga, calming tea, the 12-step program, and perhaps a small affair.  Did it work?  Of course not.  If you look backwards into the murky past, you can feel the nudge of better times.  Times of slow summer days as you made forts in the empty lots of the neighborhood.  Times where you could lie in the grass and spin a universe in your head full of heroic deeds as performed by plastic army men, who worshipped winsome damsels born from dandelion blossoms.  Times where every part of you merely wanted to be the best on your block at kickball — and, maybe even more importantly, make that dark-haired, dark-eyed girl glance at you with bubbling laughter.

But now you are a SERIOUS man or woman.  You have serious responsibilities with a serious job, a serious spouse, and serious children, who, seriously, need to get into a great college, or at least you need to enroll them in that kindergarten where trigonometry is a prerequisite.  In your neighborhood, there is no time for whimsy because “tick-tock” you’re running out of time.  Yup, that’s death knocking — you need to pick up the pace.  Faster.   Faster.  Faster.  Ahhhhhhh . . . .

Perhaps all this running from whimsy is not the answer.  Perhaps we should be drifting towards whimsy.  That is what this writing is about — getting out of your serious head for a moment, feeling foot-loose and free, and smiling.   I am a former criminal prosecutor of 30 years — which has absolutely nothing to do with this blog.   I’m also a former janitor, baker, construction worker, and foot-long hot dog seller.  They also have nothing to do with this blog.  However, I formerly directed the epic adventures of Marky Maypo — the plastic doll that I obtained through saving cereal boxtops in the early 1960’s — that has everything to do with this blog.