David Himmel 12/6/24 David Himmel 12/6/24

Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of December 1, 2024

Everyone hates their significant other’s therapist.

David Himmel 6/24/22 David Himmel 6/24/22

Notes from the Post-it Wall | Week of June 19, 2022

There are far too many pro-life folks celebrating in the misery of their fellow humans this week. Hardly a surprise.

David Himmel 1/26/22 David Himmel 1/26/22

Holding My Son as We’re Violently Burned to Death [REPOST]

But, son, I was not lying when I said I’d do anything to protect you.
Anything to keep you safe.
Sometimes that meant watching you put yourself in harm’s way.
Life is pointless without risk.
Sometimes it meant watching you get your heart broken
or hearing your bones break from the bleacher seats on the sidelines.
Harm and hurt, you see, are unfortunately, required of us.
The Universe demands it.
They are two of the many ways we learn and become stronger, better people.
Or so I always tried to be better
and I hope that I instilled that desire in you.

David Himmel 2/2/20 David Himmel 2/2/20

Holding My Son as We’re Violently Burned to Death

But, son, I was not lying when I said I’d do anything to protect you.
Anything to keep you safe.
Sometimes that meant watching you put yourself in harm’s way.
Life is pointless without risk.
Sometimes it meant watching you get your heart broken
or hearing your bones break from the bleacher seats on the sidelines.
Harm and hurt, you see, are unfortunately, required of us.
The Universe demands it.
They are two of the many ways we learn and become stronger, better people.
Or so I always tried to be better
and I hope that I instilled that desire in you.

David Himmel 9/21/18 David Himmel 9/21/18

Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of September 16, 2018

I’m canceling my subscription to Esquire after more than a decade of being a loyal subscriber and reader. Since Jay Fielden became editor-in-chief, it’s become an apologetic magazine for angry feminists and their terrified husbands. Granted, the reporting and fiction is still of value but it’s become too hard for me to get past the loaded front half of the rag — even flipping through it — without getting annoyed or feeling talked down to. I’ll miss you, Esquire, but I’ve missed you for a few years now.