It is raining outside, and cold today. The shelter next door is subdued and quiet, all adolescent restlessness placated by the appreciation of being warm and looking out a window into the cold and wet other possibility. I am in the office, as are all of my colleagues and we are working on this holiday. It feels right to me. Banging away on the keyboard as the deadline for a grant creeps nearer and nearer.
I could have gone to a matinee. I could be napping under the covers and listening to the rain like the kids next door. I could be browsing through the bookstore and sipping a hot coffee.
It is not a day off though, it is a day on. I have come to believe in that very much. Look at these mugshots of ordinary, yet great Americans who took the day on many, but not too many, years ago.
Sitting in this quiet office proofreading this grant, it is a very small thing I can do that matters.
John
