This Is Not A Mug.
This is not a coffee mug. I’m guessing neither are some of yours. Following September 11, 2001 it’s fair to say I was repressing feelings about the loss of a friend in the attacks. At some point months later, I was seated at the desk of my home-office speaking with my wife at the time when I began to sob. I just erupted. I cannot recall the exact trigger but it did not make sense in that moment. In my case, I had both a toddler and a newborn, two baby girls. What would my decisions, my values mean for them in the future? What actions would I take? One knee-jerk response was to send my resume to many acronym agencies in the DC area, an attempt to serve my country and leverage my college degree. This would be a huge career pivot. I had a profound desire to respond…to lash out, to act, to contribute. I despise helplessness and I was stewing in it. So I helped older neighbors, I re-designed and landscaped a backyard to create an idyllic little haven for my daughters and a place to gather