In 1642, John Donne wrote the following words: “No man is an island, entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, a part of the main ... Each man’s death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee.”

Apocalypses have been predicted pretty much since there have been civilizations to cower in fear of them. Since one of the “biggies” is just around the corner I thought this week timely to explore some earlier world-shattering (or not) prophesies.1

For the last couple summers, my girlfriend, Sheila, and I have been putting up cyclists in our home thanks to a website called WarmShowers.org that connects people riding around the world with people who think that sounds like an amazing adventure.

I was 16 years old before I could beat my grandmother in an arm wrestling match.
We were at her kitchen counter, seated on opposite stools. It wasn’t a quick match, and afterwards I was confused. I expected to have to go gentle on her knuckles when I pinned her arm down. Instead, after two minutes of struggle, I just got them to touch the counter and claimed victory.
It was a hollow victory. It was my grandmother, after all.