Good News Friday: Hundreds of Starbucks customers pay it forward all at once. A 99-year-old grandma knits clothes for girls. And dogs frolicking in a pool.


And a Happy Friday to you all out there in Internet Land, summer’s winding down but Lewis Baby Watch is just heating up; yep, we’re about two weeks out from my wife’s due date, a.k.a. the day my life changes forever. In the meantime, I read these stories Thursday and immediately felt better about the world. (Also, that picture above was foisted onto the world by my sister in a Throwback Thursday post on Facebook. That’s me on the right, about age 4, and already dressing impeccably. Seriously, what the hell is going on in that shirt? Way too much.)

First up, a terrific story of one kindness leading to hundreds of others. At about 7 a.m. Wednesday in St. Petersburg, Fla., a woman drove up to the drive-thru, paid for her iced coffee, then said she’d pay for the drink of the customer behind her as well.
That customer, touched, did the same, and the one after that did too, and it kept going all day, for 11 hours, for 378 people in total.

So simple. Yet so beautiful.


**Next up, more tales of nonagenarians doing amazing things: The other day I wrote about a nearly-100 year old woman running a 100-yard dash. Today, I give you 99-year-old Lillian Weber, who every day of her life makes a new dress for a child in need.

According to this Huffington Post article, Weber has made more than 840 dresses for a Christian non-profit group that gives dresses to poor girls in Africa.

“It’s just what I like to do,” Weber said to the Quad City (Iowa) Times.

You go, Lillian.

**And finally, just because you can’t watch this video and not smile: Two minutes of dogs frolicking happily in a pool.

Have a great weekend.


Tales from 2 awesome days at U.S. Open qualifying. Letterman remembers Robin Williams, beautifully. And a terrific speech from a Little League coach to this team


I’ve spent the last two days out at the National Tennis Center in Queens, watching one of my favorite events in sports, and the ticket didn’t cost me a dime.

I’ve written in this space before about the awesomeness of the U.S. Open qualifying tournament, when 128 men and 128 women compete for 16 spots in the main U.S. Open draw (for those not familiar with it works at Grand Slam tennis tournaments, the top 110 or so players in the world rankings automatically get into the main draw of the tournament, while the rest of the spots go to players who get wild cards (usually up and coming players for the host country, or older players whose injuries have made them drop way down the rankings) or those who make it through qualifying, where you have to win three matches in a row to reach the coveted main draw).

It’s free to the public, you get hour after hour of competitive tennis (there are rarely any lopsided matches in “qualies,” because there’s not much difference between players ranked No. 145 and No. 165, for example), and you can get even closer to the court than you can during the regular U.S. Open:

Some scattered thoughts from my heat-fried brain after two days of tennis nirvana:
— My biggest takeaway from the two days was how physically brutal tennis is. I’d say in at least 50 percent of the matches I watched, at least one player took an injury timeout (in one match Wednesday, both players took simultaneous injury timeouts, which I’d never seen before.) Tuesday a promising young American woman named Sachia Vickery hurt her knee late in the second set and tried really hard to keep playing.
She managed to get the match to a third and deciding set, while barely able to move between points. During the points she ran and played her best, but she was in agony for a good hour out there. She finally lost and had to be helped off the court.
This sport just punishes your body when it’s played at a pro level.

– Got a real good look at the two most promising young American men to come along in a while, though calling them “men” really isn’t accurate yet; 16-year-old Stefan Kozlov (above, who looks about 12 if you just see his face) won his first-ever adult qualies match, while 16-year-old Francis Tiafoe, who I’ve written about here before, lost a close night match before a raucous crowd cheering him on vociferously. Both are outstanding talents that could win the Open one day.

– Another cool feature of qualies week is you never know when you’ll stumble upon major stars practicing to get ready for the Open, unannounced. Wednesday around 3 p.m. I wandered over to the Grandstand court, just to see if anyone was over there, and No. 3 seed Stan Wawrinka was practicing with No. 6 seed Tomas Berdych. Two of the top 6 players in the world, playing a practice set just 20 feet from me.

– Maybe my favorite thing I saw in 2 days? A teenager walking around with a “Commack Tennis” t-shirt on. That’s my old high school! And man, we never had T-shirts advertising our Commack pride. I was totally jealous.

**Next up, David Letterman always is funny, but he also does a fantastic job with sad news on his show as well.
The other night Dave gave a moving speech about Robin Williams’ death, followed by a terrific short montage of the comedian’s finest moments on Letterman’s TV shows.

Watch and enjoy… Dave’s the best.

**Finally today, the Little League World Series has been going on all week, with Wednesday night seeing new Sports Illustrated cover girl Mo’Ne Davis and her Philadelphia teammates lose to Las Vegas.
As always, there are winners and losers in Little League, where millions of kids learn how to do both. But it’s losing with class and grace, and seeing the positive in defeat, that’s often hardest for kids to learn.
Which is why I loved this speech from Rhode Island coach David Belisle, who had to try to console his players after they were eliminated from the World Series. His words are beautiful, uplifting, and exactly what we want all coaches to be.

John Oliver gets the Ferguson disgrace just right. The female Little League pitcher is awesome. And a 99-year-old woman runs a 100-yard dash


I could write a few thousand words on what’s going on in Ferguson, Mo. over the past week, about the police acting like they’re in Baghdad, not St. Louis, about how journalists are being treated (excellent summary of that here, pointing out that if this is how the police are acting when the cameras are on, how horrible are they acting when the red light isn’t on!), and about the complete militarization of local American police forces post-9/11 and how ridiculous that is.

But HBO’s John Oliver says in just a few minutes, way more eloquently and a lot funnier, a lot of the things I would say. So watch this and shake your head like I did at the insanity of what’s going on:

**Next up, amid all the bad news going on this month, it’s wonderful to see a happy, inspirational story like Mo’Ne Davis at the Little League World Series. The 13-year-old female pitcher from Philadelphia has helped her team win two games in Williamsport, and she threw a shutout last Friday night.

She’s only the 6th girl to ever get a hit at the LLWS, and she’s shown herself in interviews to be a humble, sweet kid who’s kind of overwhelmed by all this attention. (Major leaguers like Mike Trout are even shouting her out on Twitter.)

She’s due to pitch again Wednesday night, and I for one will be watching. Check out more from her here.

**Finally, you just don’t see 99-year-old women sprinting too often, much less in a race in the Gay Games competition.

So I feel I must share this.  Great-great grandma Ida Keeling, from New York City (representing!), finished the 100 meter dash in 59.8 seconds, which is damn impressive, in a race last Tuesday.

“I’m running from old age and arthritis,” Ida quipped. “Believe me!”

You go, Ida Keeling. What an awesome woman.

So this is 39? Yeah, I’m good with that. And Ferguson explodes in tear gas again

Billy Crystal and Jack Palance in "City Slickers." Photo by Bruce McBroom

So I turned 39 on Sunday, and it was fabulous.
Birthdays used to depress me. I’d look at my receding hairline, my occasionally stalled sportswriting career, and realize time was slipping away in that great hourglass of life (now having written that, I’m thinking of the “Days of Our Lives” opening, a soap opera I once loved. Go ahead, judge me.).

But now birthdays do the opposite for me: I’m generally excited when they arrive, as I feel lucky I’ve made it through another year. Sure, this year’s birthday lead-up was a little stressful, with the last-minute preparations to our apartment for our impending baby going on, and me realizing last week while flipping through the channels and finding “City Slickers” on that I’m now the exact same age as Billy Crystal’s character when he starts his mid-life crisis and goes to the cattle drive. (What a freaking great movie that still is; I still laugh out loud when Daniel Stern yells to his wife, “I hate you more! If hate were people, I’d be China!”)

But I just had a fantastic birthday weekend, filled with all kinds of life events: Saturday we went to a family friend’s house on Long Island to celebrate the baby naming ceremony of their daughter’s triplets. Triplets, my God, I can’t even imagine. All three babies were super-well behaved for being only seven months old, though one of the boys fell asleep during his baby-naming ceremony (hey, he was entitled, it was hot out).
Then we had a surprise 70th birthday party for my stepmother, who put new meaning into the word “surprise.” Seriously, she was as shocked as I’ve ever seen someone at a surprise party. My father deserves major kudos for keeping it such a secret, and the food was outstanding.

Sunday my wife and I used our joint birthday presents to each other (her born-on date was last Sunday) and got massages, hers a pre-natal one, of course.
Never, ever a bad idea to get a massage. My new favorite person Gina de-stressed my back and shoulders completely, and made me laugh when I asked her if new fathers come in a lot.
“Yeah,” she replied, “and they usually fall asleep within the first five minutes.”

Spent the rest of Sunday relaxing, doing one of my annual birthday traditions, corny though it is (I re-read “Life’s Little Instruction Book,” every year, and love it every time. My favorite maxim is No. 68: “Be Brave. Even if you’re not, pretend t be. No one can tell the difference.”), and we had a super dinner out at Atlantic Grill, one of my favorite NYC restaurants.

So yeah, 39 is pretty good so far. It’s going to be a year different than all the others, filled with sleep deprivation, diaper changes galore, and a new “roommate” who will require constant attention and be completely dependent on us.

Can’t wait!




**Just when it looked like things were finally calming down in Ferguson, Mo. Just when it looked like the police had stopped using tear gas indiscriminately, arresting journalists for no apparent reason, and the town was no longer a tinder box of violence as thousands peacefully protested the shooting of an unarmed 18-year-old African-American named Michael Brown.

But no, Sunday night, hell broke loose again. A full three hours before the town-mandated curfew, police fired a shitload of tear-gas on protesters. Journalists like Robert Klemko of were arrested. There were reports of gunshots, and Molotov cocktails being fired at the police as tear gas rained down (the police said that, at least).

Absolutely like nothing I’ve seen in America since the Rodney King riots in L.A. back in 1992.

Just horrifying. How can this continue? Do the police feel like they just have free rein to do whatever the hell they want? If there are protesters being violent and threatening police, then they should be arrested.
But from the video and pictures I’ve seen, it just looks like massive, overwhelming police force against citizens.

The world is watching. And this is how an American police force reacts.

Awful, awful, awful.


My annual tribute to the great Jim Murray, the best sportswriter who ever lived. Two very different-sized dogs happily play together. And the Royals are in first place (finally!)


And a Happy Friday to you all! I’m happy for many reasons today, one being that both my first child and the U.S. Open tennis tournament will be arriving in the next few weeks (if the baby can hold off being born until after the U.S. Open, that’d be cool. Relax, I’m (mostly) kidding), that I’ve survived another year of life (I turn 39 on Sunday, and I’m already dreading the big Four-Oh), and that it’s time to celebrate Jim Murray again.

Every year on or about August 16, the anniversary of his death, I salute in this space the work of the legendary Murray, the greatest sportswriter who ever lived. I still read his old columns sometime, for inspiration, or for a laugh, and the all-time best email I got as a result of writing Wide World of Stuff was from his widow thanking me for remembering him.

And so once again, on the 16th anniversary of his passing, a little bit of Murray greatness. The man who once wrote “Rickey Henderson’s strike zone is smaller than Hitler’s heart,” and “Elgin Baylor is as unstoppable as a woman’s tears” was truly a legend. So many hundreds of sportswriters (me included) tried to copy his style over the years, but it was like trying to sing like Sinatra, or paint like Picasso.

Here are my two favorite columns of his: First, a touching tribute to his first wife Gerry who had just died. Here’s an excerpt:

She never grew old and now, she never will. She wouldn’t have anyway. She had four children, this rogue husband, a loving family and this great wisdom and great heart, but I always saw her as this little girl running across a field with a swimming suit on her arm, on a summer day on the way to the gravel pit for an afternoon of swimming and laughing. Life just bubbled out of Gerry. We cry for ourselves. Wherever she is today, they can’t believe their good luck.

And second, Murray’s elegy for his left eye, which finally gave out on him in 1979, rendering him mostly blind. The last four paragraphs are just perfect, but here’s another excerpt:

I lost an old friend the other day. He was blue-eyed, impish, he cried a lot with me, saw a great many things with me. I don’t know why he left me. Boredom, perhaps.

We read a lot of books together, we did a lot of crossword puzzles together, we saw films together. He had a pretty exciting life. He saw Babe Ruth hit a home run when we were both 12 years old. He saw Willie Mays steal second base, he saw Maury Wills steal his 104th base. He saw Rocky Marciano get up. I thought he led a pretty good life.

 One night a long time ago he saw this pretty girl who laughed a lot, played the piano and he couldn’t look away from her. Later he looked on as I married this pretty lady.

He saw her through 34 years. He loved to see her laugh, he loved to see her happy …  He recorded the happy moments, the miracle of children, the beauty of a Pacific sunset, snowcapped mountains, faces on Christmas morning. He allowed me to hit fly balls to young sons in uniforms two sizes too large, to see a pretty daughter march in halftime parades. He allowed me to see most of the major sports events of our time. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t drift away when I was 12 or 15 or 29 but stuck around over 50 years until we had a vault of memories. 

**Next up, this cracked me up: A tiny dog and a giant dog spend about a minute scrapping lovingly, before finally giving up and embracing. Too funny. Little dogs always think they’re so tough.

RoyalsAthletics JFS 8-14-14 0924

**And finally, the Kansas City Royals, a team that hasn’t made the playoffs since “Back to The Future” was in movie theaters (1985), are in first place on Aug. 15. And I am really happy about that, because maybe it’s the Jets fan in me, but I’ve always had a soft spot for fans who’ve suffered mightily.
The Royals play in a small market for an owner who won’t spend money, and have been miserably awful for most of the past 30 years. I root for franchises like that because I know their fans have endured so much, that it’s so extra-special when the team starts to win.
And these Royals are legit good. They get great pitching, just enough hitting, and those powder-blue uniforms sure do look swell.

I really am pulling for them to make the playoffs; the baseball postseason is so much more fun when new teams make it. Just listen to fan named Joy Jackson Bess on Facebook:

“This is so much fun! Baseball is fun again and it’s tastes like a cold glass of sweet tea on a hot KC August day. We’ve been too thirsty for too long.”

Go, Royals, go.

Matt Taibbi’s blistering new book is fabulous. The best ALS “Ice Bucket Challenge” you’re going to see. And Billy Joel serenades Christie Brinkley (again).


**Just got home and am watching some of the disgusting and disturbing video of the Ferguson, Mo. police firing on peaceful protesters, arresting journalists (and tear-gassing them, above), and turning the town into a military state. What country are we living in, again?

Long, long ago there used to be a great newspaper tradition of the “muckraking journalist,” guys like Upton Sinclair and Mike Wallace who would expose corruption, fraud and the incredible double standards that exists in the law between rich and poor, black and white, etc.

Matt Taibbi is probably the best “muckraker” working today; he has written incredible stories for “Rolling Stone” and other publications for years, and his latest book, “The Divide,” has been on the New York Times bestseller list for months.

I finally got around to reading it this week, and it is sensational. It made me angry, sad, made me laugh and shake my fist, sometimes all in the same paragraph. This is a really, really important book.

Taibbi takes on several different topics in the book, including the appalling behavior of the police when dealing with minorities, immigration laws and discrimination, and the 2008 financial crisis that saw so many financial institutions commit crimes, yet no one went to jail.

What runs through every section is the incredible divide between the haves and have nots, that the same crime committed by a Hispanic man in Los Angeles will be punished differently than if it’s committed by a while middle-class professional in Chicago. The world poor people live in and rich people live in isn’t even in the same universe anymore, Taibbi argues.

Using personal stories that will shock you (the most shocking one comes at the end, involving a white musician and police brutality) and make you think, Taibbi’s reporting is terrific, and he breaks down complex financial crimes so that even non-money whizzes can understand them (his work on the Fairfax financial scam is the best part of the book).

It’s appalling how certain groups are treated in America. I knew it was bad, I knew as a white middle-class guy I had it pretty good. But this book showed me just how very far we have to go to achieve any sort of justice and equality for all.

You can buy “The Divide” here. Definitely recommend it.


**So this ALS Ice Bucket Challenge thing has gone viral super-fast; if you don’t know what I’m talking about, I’m guessing you haven’t been on the Internet this week, but a quick explanation: In a brilliant attempt to raise money and awareness of the awful disease (more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease), the ALS Association has gotten celebrities of all stripes to take the “Ice Bucket Challenge,” which consists of a person allowing another person to dump a Gatorade jug of ice and freezing cold water over their head.

Football players are doing it, actors are doing it, hell, some 9-year-old friend of my nephew’s at day camp did it too; the other part that keeps it going is that after you suffer the freezing cold, you challenge three other people to do it too.

This one I embedded above, though, has to be the coolest one yet; hockey player Paul Bissonnette on top of a mountain, getting glacier water poured on him, from a dude in a helicopter.  So great.

The ALS Foundation reports the challenge has raised more than $2 million already; if you would like to donate, please click here.

**Finally, it’s great to be Billy Joel sometimes. Last week the music icon was doing a concert at Madison Square Garden and spotted Christie Brinkley, his ex-wife and the woman about whom he wrote the song “Uptown Girl” back in the 1980s, sitting in the crowd.

So of course he then launched into “Uptown Girl” and had his video cameraman film her reaction (at the end you can see her). So, so cool.

And how the hell does Christie Brinkley still look so amazing at 60-plus?

Remembering the manic genius (and acting chops) of the great Robin Williams. And a baby laughs uproariously because that’s what babies do sometimes.

I once saw a TV special where the legendary comedian Alan King was asked to talk about Robin Williams.

He paraphrased the old Bobby Jones quote about Jack Nicklaus; Jones saw the young golfing phenom and said “He plays a game with which I am not familiar.”

King said the same thing about Robin Williams: “I’ve been doing standup for over 50 years, and he and I aren’t in the same business. We’re not even from the same planet.”

Robin Williams literally played a man from another planet once on TV, but in reality he pretty much lived up to King’s quote. He was manic and zany and hilarious and impossible to interview in a serious way, since he ping-ponged around a room at warp speed.

You will read and hear a lot today about this incredible talent, who succumbed to the darker angels of his nature and took his own life on Monday, about how he fought depression for many years, about how even a man as famous and talented as Robin Williams can be brought down by this crippling disease.

I want to share a few personal memories of Williams, one of them being that I find it fascinating that for all his comic gifts, his two best movie roles were in dramatic performances: “Dead Poets Society” and “Good Will Hunting.”

When I was a kid one of the things my best friends Marc, Andrew and I used to do on Saturday nights was rent VHS tapes of comedy specials of our favorite comedians. (yes, I know we were super-cool.)
We would watch Billy Crystal, Howie Mandel and Jerry Seinfeld and laugh our heads off; I looked forward to those nights so much.

One night we rented Robin Williams’ “A Night At the Met,” and I was completely blown away. He was insanely funny, completely impossible to follow, and I remember not understanding half the jokes but realizing this is someone very, very different.

I watched the above clip late tonight, and laughed really hard again. Robin Williams was a comic genius, and he will be missed, and if his death shines a light on the depression millions of Americans far less famous than he suffer through, then that’s a good thing.

But that a 63-year-old man beloved by millions decided he couldn’t go on one more day, that’s just an indescribable tragedy.

And now, on a lighter note: A baby, some music, and a remote control that makes him deliriously happy. I hope this is all it takes to one day entertain my child…

4 weeks till fatherhood, and I think I’m ready. The O’Bannon case should help kill the NCAA. And Jason Sudeikis hilarious again as a English soccer coach


I’ve read that there are a whole bunch of stages you go through when you’re about to become a father.

There’s the “oh my God!” initial excitement when you find out your wife is pregnant, as something you’ve hoped for for a long time is finally going to come true in nine months.
Then there’s the growing panic and anxiety, as you start to read about all the things you have to do get ready, how expensive, time-consuming and life-changing children are, and how your life will never be the same.

Then there’s the “acceptance” stage, where things start to calm down, followed by more anxiety, then calm, then anxiety again when you realize you only bought three changing pad liners and is that going to be enough? (Your emotional mileage may vary).

In about four weeks, a human being who didn’t used to be there will suddenly appear, and be what I love more than anything in the world. He/she (we still aren’t finding out the gender, which seems to annoy several of our relatives) will be completely foreign to my wife and I, yet we will very quickly learn the joys and frustrations of parenthood, and it’ll be awesome.

It’s funny; for most of my beautiful wife’s pregnancy, I’ve been the Nervous Nellie, worried about accidentally dropping the baby and what if they won’t stop crying and how am I going to handle being a stay-at-home father, and all the other things new parents worry about.

But in the last few weeks, my mind has settled. I’m no longer frantic, I’m no longer making my wife crazy with my constant worry, and basically, I’m ready for this baby to show up.

Our apartment is too, with the crib (above) coming in last Friday, and us clearing out most of a Long Island Buy Buy Baby store on Sunday, buying “immediate essentials” we’ll need for the first few weeks.

Last night while I couldn’t sleep I was literally lying awake thinking of how excited I am, instead of terrified.

I’m sure the terror will come back once those hospital doors close behind us and it’s just us and this tiny bundle of joy, and suddenly we’re totally responsible for keeping them safe and alive.

But right now, I can’t wait to get started.

**Next up, you may remember last year when NBC Sports started showing Premier League games, they did a hilarious commercial featuring Jason Sudekis as Ted Lasso, an American coach trying to learn to coach soccer.

Well Ted Lasso is back, and he’s just about as funny as he was before. He almost makes me want to watch soccer. Almost.

**Finally, a major ruling came down Friday that looks like it will finally set the stage for end of the prostitution of college athletes by the NCAA and its member universities.

The long-awaited Ed O’Bannon case was concluded, with Judge Cynthia Wilken siding with the ex-players, who were suing because their likenesses were being used in video games and other merchandise without notice or compensation.

Finally, legal proof that it’s insane how much these kids are taken advantage of, both during their college careers and afterwards. I know it’s not going to lead to immediate, huge changes like paying athletes or giving them, you know, some more actual benefits they can use, but it’s a huge step in the right direction. For far too long the NCAA has made billions off the backs of these athletes, and finally, finally, the tide is turning a little. (Here’s a really good legal explanation of what the ruling means)

Good News Friday: A bride photobombs her future husband in childhood beach photo. A 12-year-old races a triathlon with an awesome partner. And Noah Ritter, an adorable amusement park interviewee


There are all types of sweet love stories out there, and no two are exactly alike.
I’d never heard of one like this before, but it’s all kinds of awesome. British newlyweds Aimee Maiden and Nick Wheeler were getting ready for their wedding when the couple went through old photos at his grandma’s house.

And there they found a picture of Nick building a sandcastle during childhood, and just behind him? Aimee, playing totally separately.

Twenty years later, they were married last month, just a few steps from that same beach.

So cool.

**Next, meet Noah Ritter, a little boy from Wayne County, PA who was interviewed by a news reporter last Friday about the fair.

Five-year-old Noah is so adorable here I want to adopt him. “Apparently” he had a great time.
Seriously, this kid is such a natural… I dare you not to smile at his humor.

(FYI, the video’s been seen 9 million times, and Noah’s been featured on several national TV shows since, and the Wayne County Fair is now selling “Apparently Kid” merchandise. We live in strange, strange times.)


**Next up, a 12-year-old girl who totally fits the term “hero.”
Rachel Prior is a sweet, shy girl who lives in Cleveland. Four years ago she was in the same class as Ethan Fairhurst, who suffers from cerebral palsy and autism, and does not speak.

The two quickly became fast friends, so much so that Rachel decided she wanted to do something fantastic for Ethan: She got 21 of her friends together and they all signed up for the Cleveland Triathlon, and agreed to raise money for the United Cerebral Palsy foundation.

Even better, Rachel decided she would run the triathlon with Ethan, pushing him the whole way as part of “Team Ethan.”

Rachel and her friends have raised more than $1,100 for UCP, and the triathlon was a huge success.

I heard about this story on NPR’s always-terrific “Only a Game ” podcast, when they interviewed Rachel about her friend Ethan. Check that out here, and here’s a great story from about their friendship.

What a good heart Rachel has. The future may not be in such bad shape after all.


A beautiful essay about the pain and joy of parenting. Justin Bieber’s music saves a man from a bear attack. And the scourge of “native advertising” skewered by John Oliver

There is so much beautiful heartfelt writing about parenthood that I’ve been reading lately that I feel like I could link to a different great piece every day.
My wife pointed out this one to me the other day and I thought it was painfully honest and excellently written, with heart and a little humor.

It’s from a blog called “Coffee + Crumbs,” billed as a “collaborative blog about motherhood,” and it’s by a woman named N’tima Preusser. She talks movingly about how difficult the first weeks and months of parenting can be, cutting through all the happy talk to describe what it could really be like if you have a difficult baby.

Here’s an excerpt:

The love you will feel is nothing like you have felt before. It will be foreign and familiar all at once. It will fill you to the very top of your heart, nearly spilling over. The thing about this kind of love, though, is that it can feel heavy. Disproportional. You may feel like you will nearly break in half from the top-heaviness. You will not be able to tell the difference between exhaustion and depression, and that darkness will rob you from what should be the most tender months of your daughter’s new life. 

Your baby will cry, a lot. Your days will both begin and end with the saddest screams you will ever hear. Your body will respond the way that it is programmed to – with panic. You will google everything from “dissecting baby poo” to “newborn who hates life.” And you will come up short. You will always come up short.

Your baby will only sleep in ten minute increments.
In a plastic rocking chair. (Don’t buy a plastic rocking chair.)
In the bathroom.
With the bath water running. 

You will feel like you are going mad, day after day, alone in that bathroom. Between the sound of the water running and her screams, you may feel like your nerve endings will be permanently frayed. 

At the endless ER trips that you take you will be written off as “The Paranoid New Mom.” (Press on.) They will give you pamphlets on “Colic,” and that just will not cut it. For awhile, nursing will be excruciating, and your baby will fight it, hard. Contrary to the laws of nature, Anabel will not come out knowing how to siphon milk from your body. Also, panic will flood your body when your milk lets down the majority of the time. Yes, breastfeeding induced anxiety attacks are a thing, and it will happen to you. (Hormones are jerks.)

Did I mention how depleted you will feel? 

And then toward the end, the essay takes a turn:

Though you may never have parenthood all figured out, there will be a day when you will find a way to wrap that love around yourself, instead of being buried in it. 

And though it is hard to believe, one day you will have a vivacious, smart, and unbelievably happy little girl. A girl that absolutely adores the world. And you will have clean hair, and time to make breakfast for yourself in the morning. 

You will.

I highly recommend reading the whole thing.


**Next up, a story I think all people around the world can appreciate: How Justin Bieber’s music saved a man’s life.

Check out this story: A Russian fisherman was walking in the woods and was suddenly attacked by a bear and pretty much torn limb from limb.
He most likely would’ve been killed in a manner of seconds, until his cell phone rang, and the ringtone was The Beeb’s “Baby Baby Baby,” a tune that was put on the Russian man’s phone by his granddaughter, he claimed (yeah, sure!).

The bear was so scared it let go of the man and scampered away, leaving him looking like this (above) but still alive.

Justin Bieber, life-saver! Or, you know, this story is proof that even savage, attacking animals are repelled by his songs.

**And finally, John Oliver tackled a subject near and dear to my heart as an ex-journalist: Native Advertising, i.e., the scourge and increasing frequency of major newspapers allowing “paid content” to masquerade as news stories, hardly indistinguishable in look from actual newspaper stories. (Here’s a particularly noxious example)
It’s disgraceful and awful and sadly apparently necessary for newspapers’ survival, and completely blurs the line between news and advertising. Happily, John Oliver bitingly digs into it.