"Off 50th Street", oil on board, by Mike Rooney

     In the midst of the almost daily crashes in the economy, when stores and companies are folding by the dozens and hundreds, I’m pleased to note that my life has folded in a different way – more like a comfortable blanket than a busted business. When I fold my blankets each morning, it is for the purpose of seeing them neat and tidy on the bed, ready for duty the next night. When I say my life has folded up nicely, I mean that it, too, seems to be a shipshape package, ready, at a moment’s notice, to bring comfort to any situation. In years past, it was more a pile of ripped rags than a carefully folded blanket, but gradually some order has been brought my way. It might be because I have slowly learned to surrender a little, like a soft blanket does. When I fold my blankets, they don’t resist – and I’ve been trying to be a good, compliant blanket these last few years. Whatever way life wants to fold me, I let it.