Life and Loss
Existential musings on an introspective year of mourning.
prose
A collection of 22 posts
My Mother, In Memoriam
In memoriam, Carol Marie Colombo Warner, June 18, 1941 to November 14, 2022. Delivered as spoken eulogy on December 17, 2022, Hope Lutheran Church, Cranberry Twp, Butler, PA. by Todd Warner. (Note: originally 'Adrift. Untethered.' Title changed to avoid conflict with a similarly titled poem.)
Starlink For The Win!
For eight years we have been plagued by mediocre to horrible rural internet. No longer! Starlink FTW!
Amazon Customer Service and the Case of the Mysterious Package
Mystery solved! Well, not really. But the customer service interaction was, at the very least, entertaining.
Take Shelter Now
Drop everything! Run!
Grass. Sweat. Tractor.
In memoriam, Lawrence Omar Warner, September 29, 1939 to January 21, 2022. Delivered by Todd Warner as spoken eulogy on May 15, 2022.
Ruminations on Scouting
I earned my Eagle Scout award in 1987. Those years seem so long ago, yet my scouting experience still impacts me in a very real way. Those were my formative years—good years surrounded by good people who helped make me . . . me.
Four Years of Freedom
Hey hey! It's that time of year again. A time, I'm sure, you have all marked on your calendar. An auspicious day. A day of reverence. Yup! It's that day we all celebrate Todd's departure from the corporate world and his move into semi-retirement.
I have the Greatest Friends
I celebrated my birthday last week. I received a smattering of cards and things and an ocean wave of social-media congratulations, but this particular interaction proved to be particularly special.
A More Productive Me
There's no magic pill that will turn you into a productive human being. Productivity requires vigilance and conscious effort—a constant battle accompanied by many setbacks. Setbacks have taken hold in my life. So, I've determined it's time I rejoin the war. Let me share my latest plan of attack.
The Spirit is Willing
This is for all those moments when your body at age fifty reminds your brain that you are no longer thirty.
What the Hell, Will?
You know the dream. The one where you're in line somewhere, maybe the Super Target™ or a grocery store. A busy day. People everywhere. Only then do you realize you are buck-ass naked—not a stitch of clothing. This was kinda like that. A twisted little tale. Personally, I blame Will.