Waiting

Waiting can be a source of trepidation for writers. Empty time that must be filled. Especially when the wait is for death.

My wife’s dad moved yesterday into what most of us would call a nursing home. The place is owned by Jane's childhood friend, a good man making a living in the hard business of caring for the dying. It is a growth industry.

This Sunday’s New York Times featured a story about the widening gap between food demand and supply, pointing to three interrelated explanations. Oil prices, population growth, and climate change. What’s even scarier is the wave of new public policy designed to make each of these problems worse.

The world may be going to hell, but at least we know who to blame.