How do you compare to the person you were ten, twenty, or thirty years ago? Are you kinder, braver, more principled? I’m fifty now, and those metrics matter to me. But that wasn’t always the case.

In my twenties, I lusted after money, job titles, and sex as trophies of a successful life. Those success criteria now seem laughable and childish. Yet, many of my peers still chase after the same cravings that drove them in their twenties. They’re frustrated with life. They feel left behind even though they’re rich. They’re aggrieved despite being blessed and privileged.

That’s what happens…

A few days ago, I received an invitation to join AARP, as if I needed a reminder about the impending confrontation with my 50th birthday.

Everyone keeps asking: how do you want to celebrate? It’s a big one — you need to do something special.

I get it. Fifty-years old. A milestone. The prime of middle-age. Still, I don’t want to make a big deal of it. A nice dinner with the family will suffice. The glitz and glamor of parties never appealed to me, not even in my youth.

That’s one of the greatest pleasures of turning fifty. You…

You’ve probably heard stories about that man or woman who quit their job on a whim and moved across the country to live happily ever after with their long-distance lover. Yeah, that was me.

But let’s put aside the happy ending and talk about the messy middle. You rarely hear about the struggle to find your footing in an unfamiliar environment. You especially don’t hear about the difficulty in rehabilitating your career after abruptly quitting your job and leaving behind your network of friends and colleagues.

I never regretted sacrificing a solid job with great pay to build a life…

The late comedian George Carlin once said, “Did you ever notice that everyone driving faster than you is a maniac and everyone driving slower is an idiot?”

What he meant was that we all see the world through our own unique lens. You’re the sane person driving at the proper speed while everyone else moves too fast or too slow. Meanwhile, that lunatic speeding past you thinks you’re the idiot, and that slowpoke in the right lane thinks you’re the maniac.

Carlin’s joke serves as a metaphor for modern society. …

Gina said, “I love you,” just two weeks into our teenage relationship. I could not have foreseen her upcoming cruelty the following week, but in retrospect, my actions deserve some of the blame.

The unraveling began one morning during homeroom. Instead of sitting next to me, she snagged a seat as far away as possible. The trouble mounted at lunchtime when she offered a tepid hello before huddling with her friends in a secret conversation.

When the final bell rang, I hurried to my locker and found a note folded into a triangle, slipped through one of the slits. I…

A few weeks ago, an acquaintance of mine asked a question on our suburban community’s Facebook page:

Do you think enhanced unemployment benefits help or hurt the economy?

That question reveals the divide between financially comfy suburbanites and their less fortunate compatriots. Look at the phrasing word-by-word. Do you see it?

Here it is again.

Do you think enhanced unemployment benefits help or hurt the economy?

Someone who benefits from this program might have phrased it as “…help or hurt people.”

That’s the disconnect between our two worlds. When you live in a safe and comfortable home, work a cushy…

Have you heard about the ban on gas-powered leaf blowers? Probably not. But in one suburban town in New Jersey, this temporary pilot program has become more contentious than the 2020 election.

Both sides have presented reasonable arguments for and against the ban, but those good-faith arguments have since devolved into childish name-calling and insults.

In a town with one of the highest educated populations and wealth beyond what most people need or even want, the obnoxious discourse proves that no matter how rich or how educated, you can still behave like a self-centered child who throws temper tantrums when…

Until a year ago, I couldn’t even tell you the name of my state governor, and he’d been in office for over two years.

For much of my life, I never concerned myself with politics. I imagined myself too pure, too wholesome, too enlightened to subject myself to such dirty dealings. That’s why I had registered as unaffiliated. Associating my name with a political party would stain my otherwise clean self-image.

My detachment from politics might sound infuriating or incomprehensible to some, but hear me out. I was one of the lucky ones, part of a middle-class family that would…