An open letter to the creators, cast, and crew of How I Met Your Mother

Rage on the Page

I was going to title this letter “Why I won’t be watching HIMYM Season 9,” but I realized that might make it sound like a laundry list of complaints, and this is the exact opposite of that. I won’t be watching Season 9, not right away, but I’ve got a reason.

If any of you on the show have actually found this letter, I need to say “thank you” up front, in case you don’t make it to the end. So, thank you.

How I Met Your Mother (Season 1)

I guess everyone has a “thing,” and HIMYM has been mine since I found it in 2007. It was a rough time for me; I was living in France, alone except for a small group of new friends, when my father passed away suddenly. Just like that, he was gone, and so was the person I used to be. When I returned to France from the funeral…

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Why Helen Thomas Gave Me a Good Scolding

Kryhul Media Group

I met Helen Thomas briefly in Toronto in 1988 at a Ronald Reagan press conference during what was then known as the G7 Summit. To be honest, it wasn’t so much a meeting as being given a very public dressing-down by the legendary White House correspondent.

At the time, I was the Canadian correspondent for New York-based Fairchild News Service and was covering the summit for half-a-dozen Fairchild trade papers. The summit was attended by the world leaders – Ronald Reagan (U.S.), Margaret Thatcher (U.K.), François Mitterrand (France), Helmut Kohl (West Germany), Ciriaco de Mita (Italy), Noboru Takeshita (Japan), Jacques Delors (European Commission) and host Brian Mulroney (Canada) – not to mention hundreds of government officials and international media.

Because I worked for an American news service, I was able to score entry to President Reagan’s June 21 Toronto press conference. I was both excited and optimistic when I arrived…

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NSA Surveillance: Is your personal privacy a bigger issue than human rights?

On the World and Being Weird

Of all the enemies of public liberty, war is, perhaps, the most to be dreaded, because it comprises and develops the germ of every other… No nation could reserve its freedom in the midst of continual warfare. –James Madison, “Political Observations,” April 20, 1795.

Just as the uproar in response to the virtual whistle blown by Edward Snowden has focused on the right of Americans to personal privacy, the much quieter response to atrocities committed by the United States in the name of stopping terrorism has largely focused on the right of American citizens to trial and sentencing. While Americans have every right to, and are completely justified in, being afraid of the surveillance and indefinite detention of American citizens, those same atrocities that we fear for ourselves are currently being acted out on foreign born people around the world in the name of counterterrorism. Not enough Americans have exercised…

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Uninvited celibacy

Soul Embraces

Veggie-womanRelax, this is not a woe is me story. It’s more of a story of discovery of what it has been like to be loverless for the longest stretch in my life since I lost my virginity. (OK, I actually didn’t lose it. I know where it went.)

Not making love for so long has given me new insights about what the experience is all about.

Celibacy is more than not having sex, which is to say that not having sex is more than not engaging in sexual activity — which is to say that sexuality itself is more than mere orgasm production. It’s a cornucopia of body, mind, heart, and spirit.


Sex combines both physical/sensual and nonphysical ingredients. There are the words that flow before, during, and after. The tender words, the hottie words, the encouraging words, the silly words.

I dearly love my female platonic…

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Caves of Time


The hiking brochure they hand you when you get off the shuttle begins with: “Evidence of Human Activity in what is now Bandelier National Monument dates back more than 10,000 years.”


I was about to embark on a trip back in time that made me question the nature of time itself. I’ve never been one to ponder many existential questions; I’m too busy setting goals and rushing to meet them to do anything but wonder where time went. But after a morning at Bandelier I’m no longer sure what constitutes wasting time.  Consequently I probably am, just thinking about it.

In school, natural history never seemed as interesting as it did in the James Michener books I stole from my parents. But in the Frijoles Canyon history is mockingly relevant. I’ve felt the awe of National Parks before – the way places like Yosemite make you feel so puny and…

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