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Something familiar glimmers at the back of my mind as he smiles in that tolerant way and I ramble on about my day at work. I push away the almost-formed thought, unwilling to admit that he wasn't really paying attention to me, and I continue my story, words dropping out of my mouth like hail from a storm.



We continued his hobby as a couple, welcoming into our home all types of neglected timepieces. As Jimmy labored over each arrival, I realized he healed them with passion as much as skill. The one clock he wanted to love and care for (but we could never afford) was the grandfather.



As a career consultant, I meet people who feel they are standing at a fork in the road, seeking guidance on whether to turn right or left. Accept this job offer? Resign from a frustrating job? Return to school?

"I know the answer is within me," they say, "but how do I gain access to my inner wisdom?"



Tasty and sanitary and a big value for the money. You will allow your children to eat all they want of them.

So promised the marketing brochure for the ice cream sandwich machine, a labor-saving device invented and patented by my erratically brilliant great-grandfather, a man who luxuriated in Florida whenever his fortunes were high and who hightailed it back to Ohio as soon as his cash depleted and he needed to brainstorm a new idea.




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