The Guy at Wawa

There are still good hearted, positive people in this world. I was reminded of that this morning in the most unlikely place, a Wawa convenience store. 

After the last couple of weeks, there's been times when I've honestly wanted to give up on people altogether. Become a hermit.. keep to myself.. avoid dealing with anybody if I could help it.

So this morning I stopped in at Wawa to get a black coffee and a few Lottery tickets. Today I gave myself plenty of lead time before work, so I figured I'd buy a few tickets, sit down with my coffee, scratch them at my leisure and just enjoy a quiet beautiful morning for a little while, before starting the grind once again.

Before I went inside, I noticed an older gentleman standing outside scratching a lottery ticket. He looked like a retired guy who had absolutely nowhere he needed to be. Hawaiian shirt, shorts, comfortable sandals. It's actually my prefferred leisure style to the tee, draped on someone 20 years older than I am.

He scratched his ticket, smiled, walked inside and came back out with another one.

He scratched that one too. Smiled again, walked back inside, came back out with another ticket. 

Same thing. Scratch.. Smile.. Go inside.

Eventually I went inside, bought a few tickets of my own and had a dollar credit left in the machine. As I was walking away, I heard a voice behind me.

"Don't forget, you have a dollar credit left."

I turned around and there he was.

I thanked him and told him that he had just saved me from doing something I've done before. I've walked away from a lottery machine and left money sitting there.

That led him to tell me a story.

He said that once, in New York, he was buying tickets when one of the biggest Powerball jackpots ever was up for grabs. He bought several tickets, got distracted and walked away without taking one of them.

He left it sitting in the machine. He didn't even take it home.

I groaned and said..

"Boy.. I hope somebody else didn't get that jackpot."

He told me he checked the news afterward and nobody had won the big jackpot.

I told him, "Well, maybe karma will come back around. Maybe somebody else made a little money when they really needed it"

He looked at me and said something that stuck with me.

"You know what? I think that's just God's way of telling me I didn't need that money at that time."

I stood there thinking about that for a second. Most people would probably spend the rest of their lives telling that story as the time they almost became a millionaire. They'd be angry at themselves. They'd curse their luck. They'd wonder what could have been.

This guy just shrugged it off.

Apparently he wasn't supposed to have that money. And that was that. Now that's a special kind of philosophy.

A few minutes later as I started pouring myself a coffee, I looked out the window. There was the same guy outside with the hood of his car open.

I thought, "Oh no. His car is broken down."

I started thinking about whether I had a jump box in my trunk that I could use to help him get going, then I looked a little closer. He wasn't trying to get his own car started. He was hooking up jumper cables to somebody else's car.

There he was, standing outside talking to a complete stranger, helping them get their car started. And from what I could see through the window, he looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself.

Just talking..

Just helping..

Just being friendly..

Nothing important was happening.. Nobody was giving him an award..

He wasn't changing the world..

He was just having a good morning.

And for some reason, that really hit me.

I thought, "That's the kind of retiree I want to be."

Not necessarily wealthy, or accomplishing.. anything important every day. Just being happy to be alive.

You know.. get up in the morning.. go somewhere..talk to people. Take a walk.. stop for a coffee.. scratch a couple of lottery tickets.. help somebody if they need it. 

Finding something enjoyable about an ordinary day and making the most of whatever moment I'm in. And most importantly, don't become bitter.

Don't let life beat me down to the point where I stop enjoying the little things.

Don't let the stupidity of other people ruin my entire day. Don't become the guy who sits around complaining about everything that's wrong with the world.

That man at Wawa seemed so comfortable with life. There was a peacefulness about him. Almost a Zen quality and it radiated.

He lost a lottery ticket that could have been worth millions and his response was basically, "I guess I didn't need it."

Then a few minutes later he's helping somebody else get their car started.

That's the kind of attitude I want.

And maybe I shouldn't wait until I'm retired to start working on it.

Maybe retirement shouldn't be some huge personality transformation that happens when I finally stop working.

Maybe I should start practicing now.

If I want to be that relaxed, friendly, helpful and contented old guy someday, I probably need to start becoming that guy today.

So that's my little lesson I gleaned from Wawa and the very Zen Gentleman this morning.

I left hoping maybe some of this guy's lottery luck would rub off on me.

But after watching him for a while, I'm thinking maybe something much more valuable already did.

Maybe a little bit of his attitude rubbed off instead. This was just 10 minutes and I can see he at least positively affected two people today. What is the rest of this guy's day going to be like? His week? Month? Year?!? 

Well.. who knows?

Maybe I'll scratch these tickets later and find out the luck came along too. 🤞

The Little Jar That Keeps My Mother's Memory Alive

 

Six months after losing my mom, I'm still trying to figure out how to live in a world without her.

People talk about grief as if it follows some kind of schedule. It does not.

Some days are manageable. Some days are awful. Some days a random song, smell, or memory can hit you out of nowhere and bring everything rushing back.

Lately, one of those reminders has come from something as simple as a jar of preserves.

For years, my mom loved Bonne Maman preserves. She'd tell me they were the best because they had simple ingredients. No high fructose corn syrup. No long list of things you can't pronounce. Just a handful of ingredients and real fruit.

Mom was never one to chase trends. She liked things that worked. She liked quality. She liked simplicity. And honestly.. she was usually right.

The other day I was standing in the grocery store looking at preserves. I picked up a few different brands and started reading the labels. Some seemed to have an endless list of ingredients. Then I saw the familiar Bonne Maman jars.

The little checkered lid.

The simple label.

The brand my mom always bought.

I knew it cost a couple dollars more, but I also knew I wasn't going to go through a jar every week. So I bought it.

Mom's favorite.

Since then, it's become a small morning ritual.

If I'm not having eggs and toast, I'll make a couple slices of healthy toast, add a tiny bit of butter, and spread on some Bonne Maman preserves. Then I'll sit down with my coffee.

Mom always loved her coffee.

As I sit there, I find myself looking at that simple little jar. The checkered lid. The straightforward label. Nothing fancy. Nothing flashy. In fact, the design is so simple it almost looks like something you could make at home.

And every morning I kept looking at those words:

'Bonne Maman'.

Deep in the back of my mind, I started wondering if "maman" might mean mom.

I never looked it up.

Until today.

Sure enough, I discovered that Bonne Maman roughly translates to "good mother."

I just sat there staring at the jar.

Now, maybe that's a coincidence.

Maybe it's just one of those strange little connections that happen in life.

Or maybe everything is connected in ways we don't fully understand.

I don't know.

What I do know is this:

The meaning didn't create the connection.

The connection was already there.

This wasn't some random product I discovered yesterday. This was my mom's favorite preserve for years. It was already tied to memories of her. It was already part of my morning routine. It was already bringing me comfort.

Learning what the name meant simply put words to a feeling that was already there.

As we get older, I think many of us start realizing how often our parents were right.

Not about everything. Nobody is.

But about many of the things that matter.

Quality over hype.

Simple over complicated.

Real ingredients over artificial ones.

Taking care of yourself.

Paying attention.

Living within your means.

Appreciating the little things.

What seemed like a preference when I was younger now feels more like wisdom.

The truth is, this post isn't really about preserves. It's about how the people we love never completely leave us.

They show up in recipes.

They show up in habits.

They show up in morning coffee.

They show up in things they taught us decades ago that suddenly make sense. And sometimes they even show up in a little jar sitting on a kitchen table.

Losing your mother is one of the hardest things a person can experience. If you've been through it, you know exactly what I mean. There are days when it's difficult to find any warmth, comfort, or light in the situation.

But every once in a while, life gives you a small gift.

A memory.

A reminder.

A connection.

Something that makes you smile before the tears come.

For me, that gift came in the form of a jar of Bonne Maman preserves.

And as strange as it sounds, I know I'll be buying it for the rest of my life.

Every morning when I open that little jar, I'll think About Mom.

And that's a pretty good way to start the day.

It Took Me 50 Years to Realize We Were in the Struggle

One day it just hits you.

You're sitting there in your fifties thinking about your childhood when suddenly you realize something that never occurred to you as a kid.

We were in the struggle and I never even knew it. The Reagan era was especially hard on my parents. My dad owned a small business, and there were times I'm sure he wondered how they were going to make it, and even came close to closing business. 

Mom and Dad never sat us down and talked about money problems. They never complained. They simply figured it out. They protected my brother and me from the stress so we could have what every kid deserves, a childhood.

As a kid, I never noticed any of that. I used to brown bag of my lunch from the time I was in first grade. When I finally got a metal lunch box, it was the only one I would ever have during the rest of my time spent in school. It was my black Star Wars lunch box from the late seventies.

Every school year I would see other kids showing up with shiny new lunch boxes from the latest movies and cartoons. I wanted one too. But looking back now, I understand why I never got one.

That money was going toward school clothes, shoes, groceries, and bills.

Mom had a way of stretching everything. Ham hocks turned into stew. Ground beef became a week of meals. Government cheese became quesadillas cooked right on the electric stove burner because we did not have a microwave. 

Every night after working all day cooking for hundreds of school kids, Mom would come home and cook another meal from scratch for us.

I thought that was just life.

Maybe it should have been.

We never went without food, but we also never wasted anything. My dad taught me something that stuck with me even more over time. If something broke, you fixed it. If something still had life in it, you kept using it. He had that old saying in spirit, "use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without".

 I didn’t realize it then, but that wasn’t just about saving money. It was about respecting what you already had. Sometimes he even made things better than they were before, not by replacing them, but by repairing them and learning how to take care of them. 

Dad Had a nacht for improving on a components design, making it better than the factory did and preventing it from breaking or wearing out again!

Our vacations were not fancy. They were camping trips or drives into the Colorado mountains. Sandwiches packed from home. Simple days that cost almost nothing.. but somehow gave us everything we needed. Peace, quiet, and time together.

My grandmother took that same idea even further. A Depression era Oklahoma farm girl, she could make something out of nothing. She sewed clothes for family, baked pies from fruit she had canned herself, and kept a pantry that could carry a family through winter. Nothing was wasted. Everything had a purpose.

As I got older, I drifted away from that mindset for a while. Like a lot of people, I started thinking happiness was tied to more. More money. More things. More status. I had to learn the hard way that it does not work that way.

My dad used to tell me to lead a simple life as much as I could.

It took me decades to understand what he meant.

These days I can sit down with a couple pieces of toast, a little butter and cherry preserves, and a cup of coffee and feel completely content. Not because life is perfect, but because I finally understand what I was given.

I was not raised with abundance because we had a lot.

I was raised with abundance because my parents and grandparents knew how to create it out of almost nothing.

Digital Watches: The Original Tech Marvel We All Forgot About

I graduated to digital watches around 1980, right when my Mickey Mouse watch started feeling a little too “kidsy” for me. My uncle gave me a Hewlett Packard digital watch with bright red LED display that flashed on with the push of a button. That thing felt like future tech strapped to my wrist. When it eventually died, my old man picked up a Pulsar digital watch for me, and I wore that one out just as fast.

Looking back, those early digital watches were straight up tech marvels. For the time, nothing felt more advanced. They were the closest thing we had to a smartwatch. As a kid, wearing a watch loaded with functions made you feel like James Bond or a time traveler.

Over the years I went through all kinds of digital watches. I loved the stopwatch functions and timed everything — how long I could hold my breath.. to how long my old man hogged the bathroom. Totally unrelated, but both were important metrics. And the backlights? I used them constantly, even when I didn’t need to.

Casio CA-53W-1CR
Calculator Watch

I also owned an insane number of video game watches like Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, Q-Bert, and Legend of Zelda. Plus a couple legendary Casio calculator watches that saved me more than once in math class. Since I was seven years old I’ve owned over 100 watches, but I always circle back to digital displays. There’s just something about them.

Antiquated Digital Tech at its finest!
The Timex DATA LINK

In the mid-90s, Timex dropped one of the coolest wrist gadgets ever made — the Timex DataLink. Co-developed with Microsoft, it was basically a wrist-mounted PDA. You’d enter your notes, contacts, and reminders into a computer program, and the watch would read the data through a flashing light pattern on the monitor. It felt like sci-fi. Dead battery? No stress — just re-sync the data again.

And then there’s Casio, which completely changed the game with its G-Shock line. I’ve owned some very nice timepieces in my day, but G-Shocks hit a different nerve. They can take ridiculous amounts of abuse, they require basically no maintenance, they’re loaded with options, and Casio keeps pushing out better designs and special editions. They’ve turned digital toughness into a whole style category.
One of my absolute favorites is here:

The best watch I’ve ever owned — the Casio G-Shock
The watch that simply refused to die

I do love classic mechanical timepieces, but digital watches still hold a special place in my heart. When I find anything retro, unique, or just plain cool, I’ll post it here.

When Thanksgiving Changes: Nostalgia, Lost Routines, and Finding New Meaning

I woke up this morning with a weird feeling. Not bad. Not great. Just off. Out of sorts. The kind of feeling where you know something is different, but it takes a minute to figure out what it is.

I used to have a routine on Thanksgiving morning. It was automatic. I would get up early, put on a hoodie, and head over to the convenience store to grab the two biggest newspapers in the area. Not for the news. For the Black Friday ads. That was the real prize. I would grab a coffee, maybe some donuts, and then head home.

Once I got back, it was time for the annual mega breakfast. Biscuits and gravy. Bacon. Eggs. Sausage. Hash browns. Pancakes, maybe some grits. It was a once a year kind of breakfast and it always felt like the perfect way to start the day.

Then I would spread out the newspapers and start digging through the ads while the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade played in the background. That was my morning. It felt right. It felt like Thanksgiving.

Now I look around and none of that is here anymore.

Newspapers are ten bucks a pop if you can even find them, and the Black Friday ads inside are barely worth flipping through. Most of the sales start weeks before the actual day. The fun of finding something by digging through pages is gone. Everything is digital. Everything is instant. I miss the treasure hunt part of it.

I was never the guy waiting outside for the big TVs or game consoles. I would definitely be there once the doors opened, but would then go after the weird little deals. Five dollar coffee makers. Seven dollar towel sets, etc. All the stuff no one was fighting over. That was my lane and it was fun.

But the breakfast? My kids are grown and everyone’s routine is different now. I might end up eating cereal this morning. It feels strange even thinking that.

The parade? I honestly don't even know what streaming service I need for it. (and I'm so sick of constantly having to download new streaming apps). Such a stark contrast to back in the day when I would just turn the TV on, flip the channel either way two or three spots amongst the network channels and start watching it. 

Same story with the Charlie Brown Thanksgiving Special. It was the way I finished off my day. Maybe with a little wine or brandy.. and one last slice of pumpkin pie. I would most likely have to sign up for yet another service if I try to watch it tonight.

Thanksgiving dinner? I'm not going to get started on that one for a few reasons. That one is still a question mark. I just don't know where or what it will look like, which is something I never used to think about. 

Things change. Time moves whether we want it to or not.

I've always been a creature of habit. I like my routines. So being this far away from what Thanksgiving used to be for me feels strange. 

That being said my friends.. there is something oddly freeing about it at the same time. I cannot totally explain it yet. I've not yet sorted out the feeling completely. But maybe that's okay.

Maybe it's fine to sit in this space for a bit. To look back and miss things but not cling to them. To admit that the old way was great.. but the new way might have something in it too, even if I'm far from finding it.

For now, I am just here. Thanksgiving morning. A little out of sorts. A little nostalgic. A little curious what the day will turn into. Just me my coffee.. sitting outside gazing at the trees.

And maybe that is enough.

Kid Me Would Be Disappointed: The Day I Walked Away from a Giant Gummy Bear

II almost bought a gigantic gummy bear today. I picked it up, admired it, imagined the pure childhood joy of tearing into it… and then I did something horrifyingly adult:

I put it back on the shelf and kept walking.

While I’m proud of myself for not succumbing to this ridiculous impulse buy, part of me scoffs and says, “Why the heck not? Be a little silly and ridiculous why dontcha?!”

But the adult in me once again takes over and asks, “What are you gonna do… bite the head off of that giant gummy bear?.. then what?"

Gummy candies are hands down my favorite type of candy. But this behemoth? I think it could be too much of a good thing. I’ve overdone it in the past with donuts and burgers the size of my head, and experience has taught me that more is not always better.

When I was a kid?
I fully believed adulthood meant unlimited bowls of cookies for breakfast, a fridge stocked with JOLT Cola & Mountain Dew, and a cabinet overflowing with cans of spray cheese crackers, Doritos, Fritos corn chips, Frito-Lay bean dip.. the list goes on. I assumed you could just… go wild. No rules. No one to stop you. 

But what happened to me?

Responsibility.
Responsibility happened.

It’s the thing that keeps me from going off the deep end. The thing that makes me listen to my body when it starts protesting. It’s why I do boring preventative things like skipping pepper pods and Tabasco on my pizza after 6 p.m., or refusing to drink a coffee after 5 p.m. So I'm not staring at the ceiling all night.

It’s not the funnest version of life, but it’s the version where I wake up feeling better, move better, and don’t regret my own decisions the next morning.

So yeah… the enormous gummy bear didn’t come home with me today.
But honestly?

I think that means I’m finally doing adulthood right, even if a tiny.. mischievous part of me still wants to sneak a bite (and still might someday) because adulthood hasn't totally driven the fun and spontaneity out of me.

Catching It Before It Ruins Your Day

I’ve always had a tendency to come at things from a negative angle. Not because I want to, but because that’s what I was surrounded by growing up. It got ingrained in me. It’s not hardwired, but it’s been a default setting I’ve had to work really hard to change.

A friend recently asked why I always jump to the worst case scenario before I make a decision. I told them it’s because I’m data driven. I play the odds. If something’s gone wrong 80 out of 100 times before, why would I expect anything different?

They said something that really hit me..

“You throw that kind of energy out to the universe, and it comes right back.”

I actually agree. I’ve known people who constantly talk about being unlucky, being born losers, and that nothing ever goes right for them. And it perpetuates that cycle. It’s like they’re magnetically attracting more of what they hate, just by believing that’s all they’ll ever get.

I never went that far, but I did used to live by the motto..

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.”

But I’ve changed my stance.
Now my new one is..

“Expect the best, prepare for the rest.”

Because expecting the worst wasn't protecting myself. It was preloading my brain for disappointment.

The other morning proved it. I woke up ready for a quiet day, but my knee started bothering me out of nowhere with pain. Then boom, car problems. Then my backup car had problems. Then work called me in early. Any one of those things on its own could have thrown me off, but stacked together, I was on the path to letting my situation  completely derail my mood before the day even had a chance to start.

Instead, I made the effort to start thinking of good things, like small wins like an unexpected check I received in the mail, $30 I won off a $5 scratch ticket, the fact that I’m above ground, telling myself things like "it’s a good day" and "Some people would give anything for the chance to walk, even with sore knees". It seemed like once I started to force myself to think positive things, my brain took over, and they cascaded into more and more examples I was pulling out of my data banks effortlessly.

The more I practiced that, the more good things I noticed. My day didn’t magically get easier, but I did get better. It actually shifted my perception, which in turn changed my reality. It really blows my mind when I ponder this reality-perception connection.

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about saying a couple of affirmations and suddenly having your life turn around. It doesn’t work that way. It takes work. It takes a lot of conditioning to stay positive. It’s something that still doesn’t come naturally to me, but I’m hoping that someday, it will.

I'm finding if I just keep at it, it really does start to change something inside of me. You start noticing what’s working, not what’s wrong. And that tiny shift in focus changes everything.

I Woke Up Feeling Off Today — Here’s What Helped Me Shift My Mood

I woke up feeling something today — but I couldn’t name it.

It wasn’t happiness.

It wasn’t sadness.

It wasn’t peace or panic.

Just… off.

My legs felt like stretched-out rubber bands. Probably from all the water I drank the day before trying to stay cool in this brutal 110° heat. It was one of those nights where I got up three, maybe four times — never really sinking into deep sleep. But honestly, it wasn’t just physical.

I tried to talk to a close friend in the morning like I usually do, but the responses were short and distant. One-word replies. When someone you care about seems off, your mind starts asking questions. Did I do something? Are they okay? What’s going on?

They later told me it might be hormones, maybe just a mood — and I get that. We all have those mornings. But I’ll be honest: it left me feeling a little alone.

And when that feeling creeps in, it can either derail your day — or realign it.

That’s when I reminded myself of something I’ve come to believe strongly: vibration matters.

What you put out, you receive.

I’ve known people who walk through life expecting bad things — and guess what? That’s what they get. It becomes their narrative. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

On the flip side, I’ve seen others who expect good things. They speak hope. They try to stay up, even when life is pulling them down. And somehow, they always seem to land on their feet. Maybe not rich. Maybe not “winning.” But okay. Safe. Grateful.

And that’s the key — gratitude and expectation.

So instead of staying stuck in that weird morning mood, I scrubbed the coffee stains off the kitchen floor. I stood up and stretched. I reminded myself that I have water. I have work. I have a roof. And I have the ability to shift my perspective.

The day hadn’t happened yet.

And I still had the power to shape it.

Do I Actually Like Doing Anything… or Am I Just Existing?

I’ve been thinking lately about something kind of uncomfortable. Not in a tragic way, but in that quiet, creeping kind of way that makes you question how you’ve been moving through your days.

Do I actually like doing stuff?

Like… anything?

That sounds ridiculous on the surface, I know. Of course I do. I like food, I like laughing, I like a good sunset, and when I really think about it, I can name some hobbies and interests. But I’ve started to realize that there’s a difference between liking the idea of something and liking the actual doing of it.

Take drawing, for example. I’ve always considered myself someone who draws. It’s part of who I am. But lately, I catch myself putting it off. Or getting frustrated halfway through. Or feeling like I should be filming it, posting it, making it count somehow. So do I like drawing—or do I like having drawn?

Same with social stuff. Do I like being around people? Or do I just like feeling like I’m not completely isolated?

And then there's the bigger stuff—writing, working, exercising, even just leaving the house. Do I genuinely enjoy it, or am I just trying to make myself feel productive, useful, relevant?

I guess this is the part where I admit that I’m still figuring it out. I’m in this strange, in-between season where I’m trying to listen more closely to myself. To notice when I feel lit up. To catch those rare moments when I lose track of time. Because I think that’s where the real stuff lives. The stuff I actually like. Not the stuff I feel obligated to like. Not the stuff I do because I’ve always done it.

I want to rediscover what makes me feel alive, not just occupied.

So here’s my little check-in with myself. If I like something, great—I want to chase it. If I don’t, that’s okay too. I’m not going to force it anymore. Life’s too short to keep signing up for stuff that doesn’t fill your cup.

Anyway. That’s where I’m at today.

A moment of peace

9:12 a.m.. I'm just sitting in my car this morning in the parking lot at work. Door opened, cool breeze hitting my face. 

I'm making myself pause for some reason. Trying to get a moment of clarity before the madness of my day starts. (And there WILL be madness).

It's amazing to me. All of the bull crap, all of the pain, trauma, suffering and loss that has occasionally hit over my course of half a century on this earth.

But absolutely none of that matters at this very moment. Right now I've got a delicious coffee in my hand, a fresh donut in the other. I'm listening to the birds chirp and breathing in the fresh air. I'm above ground, I'm upright, I'm way better off than many others in this world and I'm truly grateful. 

Why is it so hard to keep yourself at a positive vibration in this life? We have every tool we need, we tell ourselves what we need to do, yet we lose sight so quickly during the course of just a regular day. 

Nothing has meaning until we give it meaning. It's a mantra I should practice daily. And I'm going to try my best to do this today.  Not control my reality, but adjust the way I view it. Because THAT you can control.

Be good to yourselves my friends.