I don’t ask “why” when reflecting on the fact that both of our children were born on holidays.

Our son Connor was born on Thanksgiving Day; our daughter Mary Brooks was born on Saint Patrick’s Day.

It could not be more appropriate that Mary Brooks arrived on a day of great revelry and celebration. Her birth was a joyous day then, and it is even more so now.

And now she lives in New York, where Saint Patrick is celebrated like no other place.

March 17th is the date that Saint Patrick is thought to have died, and I understand why you would celebrate the date someone dies.

But for our family, March 17th is a day of celebration for an amazing arrival into this world, not a departure from it.

I am enjoying the latest book by Georgetown University professor and productivity guru Cal Newport, titled Slow Productivity: The Lost Art of Accomplishment Without Burnout.

At the risk of driving down the number of books Mr. Newport sells, I will now save you, the dedicated readers of “Thoughts for the Week,” the $27.00 cost of the book and the 6 hours and 18 minutes it would take to listen to on Audible, by giving you the CliffsNotes version of the book!

(Whoever said reading my drivel is a waste of time and money is WRONG!)

Mr. Newport states slow productivity “is a philosophy of organizing knowledge work efforts in a sustainable and meaningful manner” based on the following three principles:

OK, maybe I have been living under a rock for the past decade, albeit a rock with a mortgage. Is that why I have never heard the term “jargon monoxide”?

Jargon monoxide perfectly sums up the cause of the death wobble that I go into when someone drops multiple cliches and buzzwords into the same sentence during an interview. My eyes roll back in my head… slump forward… I start to drool.

As an interviewer, I am incredibly allergic to jargon monoxide, so much so that it puts me into an instant stupor.

Geez, it is crazy how things work out…

Geez, it is crazy how small the world really is…

Geez, it is wild where this life has taken me.

Many moons ago, in January 1998, I trekked to Newark, (Don’t Call Me ‘New Jersey’) Delaware, to pitch a marketing search to the fine folks at the credit card company MBNA.

I pitched hard, but my pitch was well out of the strike zone. I did not get hired.

I cannot remember what my exact reaction was to losing that search… I don’t recall crying, gnashing my teeth, or tearing my clothes off like those folks do in the Old Testament when they lost a pitch (or a loved one)…

Happy President’s Day Eve to all of you!

If you are like me, your heart is bursting with anticipation of the greatest of federal holidays! What can be more exciting than celebrating the career accomplishments of Benjamin Harrison, Franklin Pierce, and Herbert Hoover?

In our family, we like to start off President’s Day Eve with an evening of music by The Execu-Tones – the band comprised of the ghosts of presidents who were musically inclined, such as:

Have I ever forgotten anything?

I empathize with Joe Biden, as I had a life-changing event that had to do with the perception of my memory.

When I was nine years old, I was trying out for a church play. The audition required that I sing God Bless America.

I choked.

I froze because I forgot the words. It happened somewhere near “Through the night with a light from above.” I think I went with, “Though we fight, we don’t bite, we don’t shove.”