Fun-run peer pressure is a growing stress in my life, with fundraising races pretty much every weekend around Boulder. Maybe the participants are moved by the excitement. Maybe they just want to share the pain. Maybe I want to choose my own kind of pain.
"Holy shit, I think someone just sent me a bunch of drugs," funky folk singer-songwriter Todd Snider announced from Nashville. "That's mushrooms." Just another day in the life of a well-traveled troubadour.
I quickly checked myself before showing that I was alarmed by her reaction, and continued to smile. I imagined that I was the first black person that she had ever seen, and wanted my encounter with her to be a positive one.
When I finally went to bed Thursday night and closed my eyes, I could see only images of rushing water. In the ensuing days, the sound of falling rain, which I have always found soothing, now seems fearsome. When will it start up again? How hard will it rain? How long it will last?
Everything is context. Take the bus driver off the bus, the waiter out of the restaurant, your child's teacher out of the classroom, and the question when you both meet on the street might be: "I think I know you..."
When you lose the use of one sense, the others become heightened. That's certainly true for Gerry Leary of Boulder, Colorado. Leary has been blind since birth, yet he operates a successful coffee roasting business and a café near Boulder's main pedestrian mall, Pearl Street.