I plan to give Robert Goldstein a firm handshake some day

image Handshakes are important because they tell me a lot about a person. In all my years, I’ve never been disappointed by anyone who has given a firm, enthusiastic handshake (not counting election years.) My father told me never trust someone who doesn’t offer their hand, or if the hand they offer is limp or unengaged.

“Either way, chances are they aren’t the kind of person you can trust with an agreement or respect in a disagreement.”

In the blogging world, we rarely get the chance to shake hands in person. We do it with our words — in what we say in our posts, what we share, how we comment and reply. And though I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of shaking the hand of Robert Goldstein, I’m certain it would be the kind my father would approve of and respect. Until a couple of weeks ago, Robert was a fellow nominee for Performance of the Year in The Public Blogger’sA Star is Born” competition. He was one of the first nominees I gravitated to because, in addition to his talent as an artist and writer, it was immediately clear that he was a man with a firm grasp on many of the virtues I respect. He is a humanitarian at heart, constantly offering insightful pieces and perspectives on what it means to be human — and how to stay that way in a world that often seems to challenge that notion. Continue reading I plan to give Robert Goldstein a firm handshake some day

That time I should’ve called for back-up when talking turkey

During this morning’s editorial meeting, I was once again given the assignment of visiting a local turkey farm to write up a special Thanksgiving piece. If it goes anything like last year’s visit, “special” isn’t really the right word. [Cue gauzy dream sequence and harp music]…

image Over the weekend, I was the victim of an unprovoked and extremely frightening turkey attack. In my defense, there were five of them (technically known as a “gang” of turkeys) involved in the assault, which started because of my proximity to a preening female turkey, which had apparently snubbed her suitors in favor of me.

Possibly because she was confused by my chicken legs.

Whatever the reason, the male turkeys didn’t take well to this and decided the best way to handle the situation was to join forces and, one by one, take turns flapping their giant wings at my [censored]. Before I knew it, I was being circled by an agitated turkey gang and wishing my editor had assigned me to something less dangerous, like covering a Blind Axe Throwers convention. Continue reading That time I should’ve called for back-up when talking turkey