Articles

  • 1 week ago | wshu.org | David Bouchier

    Here we are, only days away from the official beginning of summer. The vacations of last summer have almost faded from memory. The media world is aglow with advertisements for the golden weeks ahead and how we can enjoy them, at a price. Right now, when we so much want to get away, almost any price seems worth paying. This desire to move must be a very deep and primitive instinct.

  • 2 weeks ago | wshu.org | David Bouchier

    We all like to complain, at least I do. But nobody loves a complainer. Complaining is a whiny, weak, ineffective habit, not likely to produce any result except irritation. Our angry modern world demands something more robust. Any grievance must be inflated until it reaches the level of outrage, at which point it becomes worthy of political attention and media amplification. The public world seems more emotional and less rational than it was even twenty years ago.

  • 3 weeks ago | wshu.org | David Bouchier

    I have been thinking a lot recently, but I don’t want to make a habit of it because it is such hard work. I started thinking for myself at the age of about twenty-five. Most young men don’t think at all before that age, as the crime statistics, traffic accident figures, and maternity statistics prove. Some men never think for their entire lives, as any woman will confirm. Thinking is simply the coherent connection of one thought with another in search of the answer to a problem.

  • 1 month ago | wshu.org | David Bouchier

    A few years ago, we made a brief visit to Albania as part of an Adriatic cruise. The tour included a visit to Tirana, the capital, and its Museum of Albanian history. It really has been quite a history. Albania was called Illyria in the ancient world. Shakespeare imagined iy as a magical world in the play Twelfth Night, and many strange things happened there both in fiction and in fact.

  • 1 month ago | wshu.org | David Bouchier

    The commencement season is upon us, and it will be over in a few days. The hired robes are returned, and the textbooks are thankfully disposed of, leaving thousands of parents feeling relieved and the young graduates feeling slightly lost. I can’t remember my own graduation, but I do remember the enormous sense of relief afterwards. The world was my oyster; I could do anything. But nothing works out quite the way you expect.

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