A Letter

77% Weekly Newsletter

A Letter

Beloved,

Let me tell you something I often say when counseling those mourning the loss of a loved one.

“Unless you are a rabbi or minister, you shouldn’t be good at writing eulogies.”

And then I add: “Let me give you a pro tip—think about writing a letter. Because you know how to write a letter and this way you don’t have to stare at a blank page not knowing how to start.”

They usually grasp the idea instantly and are then able to start writing.

✧✧✧

I just did something similar in the writing of this article.

I didn’t know what to write today’s article about and found myself staring at a blank page.

Stuck.

So, to get myself started, I began by writing a letter.

And it worked!

I figured out what you are about to read below.

✧✧✧

Human spoken language is estimated to be tens of thousands of years old—likely over 100,000—while written language is only about 5,000 years old.

Written language is a game changer—enabling us literate humans to communicate thoughts to the future.

Which is amazing!

But what of it?

Depends on what we wish to communicate.

✧✧✧

Imagine you can write a note to future generations.

What would you want to convey?

✧✧✧

Me? Here is mine:

Beloved,

Lean into love.

See if you can love more today than yesterday.

Love yourself. Love others. Love more.

Stop rushing.

Slow down.

Be kind.

✧✧✧

What not-perfectly-polished message would you send?

(You might start it as a letter so you don’t stare at a blank page.)

✧✧✧

Hiawatha Johnson, JR.

January 2026 — Portland, ORE Hiawatha Johnson, Jr., a mentor and friend died. Summer 1985 — Magic Camp Oakdale, Long Island I’m 15. He’s 30. He wears a dashiki. He uses a walking stick. I’m prepubescent. I listen to comedy cassettes on a Walkman. I’m in awe. ✧✧✧ I perform a rather banal magic act that year — me narrating

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The Delay

2026 issue #03 — The Delay I’m in my buddy David’s car. He’s driving me from my mom’s apartment in NYC to Newark, NJ, where I’m going to catch a plane back home to Portland. David and I have been friends for fifty years. Amazing. My phone dings. I look at it. Nothing important. Just an alert from United. *

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Lifeboats. Summer. Bridges. Helpers.

Lifeboats. Summer. Bridges. Helpers. The rapid succession of a toddler-drunk-on-power messes is overwhelming. I’m exhausted by the sheer number of (what seem to me) reprehensible acts. My country is sickening me. federal agents shooting at (and killing) civilians actions against immigrants, federal workers, the environment, reproductive rights invading a sovereign nation and abducting its leader pardoning people who committed reprehensible

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77% Weekly Newsletter
77% Weekly Newsletter