Carl Setzer

This article, over at Huffington Post, provides a different look at race in America. We’re Indian-American With Adopted White Children And Here’s What People Ask Us A lovely, gentle piece exploring a mother's love for her children, both from birth and from adoption. I particularly enjoy the voice she adopted. Some great lines in there. My favorite: "The hyphen will define us more than the terms themselves...", which tells a big part of the story about race in the United States right now. I doubt Ms. Iyer thought much about the social experiment she would be opening up. I expect, simply, that she and her husband followed their hearts and opened their homes. She opened my mind with her writing. I hope the same for you.

I've seen life's frivolousness, the extreme fickleness of fate. A randomness haunting life. This uncertainty drives many to fear. Me? Connection: my drive is to connect, deeply, richly. Not simply awareness of Facebook updates (or Facebook's kin). Rather to comment, engage, share: whether that's humor, insight or compassion. An actual presence, of which we both are aware. Friends and family: this matters most. If, at the end of our life, no one cares, or worse, our death generates a feeling of relief, a release from the miseries we've inflicted, has our life any value?

My son and I exploring rocketry, then me messing around with iMovie. Possibly the first of many: both launches and dollars spent.

I adore my son, and love his creativity. It does, however, grate on me (somewhat) the toll this takes on my office supplies. I can’t find a single, unbent paper clip right now. Yesterday it was all the letter-sized paper gone, GONE from the printer. A few weeks back: every staple in the house (2 boxes!) had been consumed in some mad-scientist/artist scheme. That goes with the pounds of paper scraps littering the floor. And the piles, PILES of various half-done crafts (that I recycle at my peril). ’Tis the perilous life a modern father.