Larry Benjamin. Wordsmith. Writer. Author.

  I’m Judge of Elections in my ward/district so of course the election is very much on my mind. Actually, I may be obsessed. If you follow me on Twitter you know that I am consumed with outrage over this administration; trolling Trump has become a favorite pastime. I truly believe exercising our right to vote is critical; it is a calling, a sacred obligation, an opportunity not to be dismissed. In a recent conversation, I suggested employers should close on Election Day—especially this year when unprecedented voter engagement is expected to result in long waits to vote, causing a disruption in work schedules and obligations. A phenomenon compounded by the social distancing required to prevent the spread of Covid 19—after all we don’t want voting to turn into a super spreader event like the #RoseGardenMassacre. (See, I can’t stop trolling Trump). Anyway, my suggestion was met with resistance; the argument was made that employers shouldn’t be paternalistic, “parenting” employees...

We didn’t know his name when he streaked past us that first night. Tangled, dirty, underweight, he ran from us. When we caught him, I scooped him up in my arms. Scared, hungry though he surely was, he was gentle, affectionate. With no collar and no microchip we had no choice but to hope and wait he would be claimed. He decided we were his home before we decided we’d keep him. We named him Victor Lorde Riley after a fictional soap opera character. In retrospect it wasn’t a great name given the character herself was by turns alcoholic, schizophrenic and locked in the attic by her stepmother. We called him Riley. I’ll never forget the look of gratitude in his eyes that first night when we took him home and carefully cut out his mats and the burrs that were scraping his skin. He settled in, claimed a toy and decided he was staying, claiming a spot in our bed and our hearts. No matter how many times a day I left and returned he greeted me at the door with a toy and a wagging tail. He ...