Skip to main content

Futureproofing: Tips For An Uncertain Era



The 21st century has been a wild ride and we're only 19 years into it (or just beginning, according to the theory that places the beginning of a new century roughly 20 years after the turn of the calendar date). Uncertainty is the prevailing mood of our time. Wall Street and the general economy appear to have uncoupled. Those responsible for the economic crash of 2008 have gone unpunished. Military action has spread across the Middle East, while domestic strife is commonplace. How we got here has been recorded in numerous books and documentary films, and a history of the road to 2019 is beyond the scope of this post. Futureproofing will be a series devoted to tips on how to cope with the uncertainty of the present era.

These tips will draw on ancient wisdom, new ideas, maybe even a few hunches. The ideas certainly aren't written in stone, nor are they to be considered legal or financial advice - see a carefully vetted professional if needed. It is my hope the Futureproofing series will plant a seed or two in the minds of all who read it.

Coming soon: a list of thinkers who inspire the series.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Regarding Keeslyn

In January 2020, a young lady named Keeslyn Roberts disappeared from a fuel station near my home. The case remains unsolved. This post will examine the actions, and lack thereof, of those in authority, and how this contributes to the case remaining unsolved. But first, a little backstory. As a teen, I lived in the same neighborhood as the Roberts family. Keeslyn's father, Eric, is older than I, and I don't recall the two of us having much interaction. His sister, on the other hand, is the same age and we've been friends for over 40 years. It was she who told me about Keeslyn's disappearance and the family's frustrations with the lack of police action. To learn more of the specifics of the case, numerous podcasts and news stories are available online. To my understanding, the police reaction to the disappearance has thus far been little to no reaction. After no word from his daughter for several days, Eric went to the fuel station where her car was parked. He th...

The Willowdale Bridge

During my childhood, when I-75 was a divided four lane and Highway 41 was still the main road through town and smaller roads snaked over and between the hills, the Willowdale bridge crossed Mill Creek along one of those side streets. That is, until The Day The Truck Tried To Cross. On that day in the late 70s, a truck driver tried to drive too large a truck over too small a bridge, causing a collapse and putting the truck in the creek below. My dad insisted we go have a look, so into the car and on the way we went.  It was quite a sight for my young eyes and the memory still feels fresh. My wife, who lived nearby, remembers the event well, as I suppose all who saw it did.  Willowdale is also the site of a train derailment many years ago. Here's the story as told by Norman Blake: The bridge was decommissioned long ago and has fallen into disrepair. A walking trail has replaced the road, but the remains of the bridge still stand.

Progress!

In a previous post, I mentioned I have resumed writing. It's good therapy and a fine creative release. Here's an update on my efforts: I've completed one story and submitted it to the William Faulkner Literary Competition. It's a short piece and I don't expect anything to come of it, but I'm pleased with the story and submission. A new short story has been started, a ghost story set in the South. This is quite natural, as I'm a Southerner who loves a good ghost story. It's set in a nearby town with Civil War history. What began as a short story is now looking more like a novel. The idea is simple but as I was making notes, it dawned on me that this is much more than a short story. I plan to finish the aforementioned story before jumping into the longer piece. Lastly, I'm taking notes furiously as ideas come. I'm very much enjoying the return to writing. Unlike during previous attempts to write, I...