Morning Stories

You have to be born a hero. Oh really? And what about all the other Homo Sapiensers?

He's approaching the thirty-thousand-day mark. And that's a good thing in itself, because the days that got him here were well lived. Peter turns eighty today. But that's not really the story. Because ageing is something practically everything does without much effort.

So simple as this short word seems — its impact is extreme. Anyone who wants to say goodbye to someone — or has to — is closer to tears than to laughter. A person dear to your heart is setting off on a journey. That's a real cut into the comfortable routine of everyday life.

Love is flighty, most of all in its opening stage. Every now and then it remembers itself and goes flighty again. The flutter of butterflies in the belly. The flutter of knees. The fluttery liability of shared birth control.

“Of course I can shift into a lower gear.” Especially when you’re driving down a residential street. Going deep — depth — is a word and an action that has somehow slipped out of modern life. Probably somewhere into the deep end.

Mind you, it was not an answer — Google delivered a collection of possible sources that might have one. Might. I was astounded. And thought: This is the end of ignorance.

Stories are — as the very word suggests — the many different layers that come together over the course of a life. Shaping a life story. The story itself.

GAL? Could this be the ultimate core of justice? The hardcore gene of civilized society? Could well be – because these three letters, GAL, hide inside many a meaningful word. Is it even egal if a book about Égalité sits le­gal and regal on the gallery shelf in Portugal? Too much of a good GAL? Well, maybe – but that is not the least bit ille­gal.

Wanderlust or Homesick? Anyone who has always lived behind the moon or under a rock won't be surprised by the state of the world today. Because they don't catch any of it. The news? A Canadian was behind the moon. But only briefly.

Götterdämmerung? (Which is Twilight of the Gods) Which gods are currently facing their twilight? And if any of these ladies or gentlemen are available for comment: what exactly does this twilight contain right now? I mean, at many corners of the globe - wait, why corners? - this very world is no longer in order. Not even at seven in the morning. Yet the bearers of hope in all countries - or at least most of them - refuse to stop carrying.

Those are two separate word parts, aren't they? Uni and Versity struck a deal — and in doing so, made quite a contribution to education. Oh wonder of wonders, this concept too comes straight out of the old Latins' kitchen. “Universitas” stood for “totality” or “community.” Oha — academics are accessible to the totality of citizens? Well, how marvellous.

If a single word can set the entire arsenal of emotions spinning, then those few letters must be carrying an enormous payload of associations. When spring announces not only itself but is heralded by the writing and rhyming guild, many things begin to sprout anew.

No, I'm not entirely certain — but appearances suggest: most fingers are already finished by the time a human arrives in the cradle. They're still a little small. And still a little clumsy. But as fingers go, they're perfectly fine and ready to feel their way through the world.

Brian is full of meaning. Not the man, mind you, but the name itself. When Brian was still a freshly minted Celt having a look around Ireland, his name gained a little extra weight. The Celts and the Irish agreed that nomen est omen. Brian is the noble one, the strong one, or simply the hill, depending on which way you interpret five letters.

The newspaper hits just as hard in print: overwhelming. Anyone who ventures past the first two pages in the morning will likely feel buried under an avalanche of information. Probably.

Hmm. All right. Let’s start with a little brain teaser. Imagine you’re a member of a venerable old club. One member – let’s call him Uncle Andrew – gets kicked out of the club because he was friends with a certain Jeffrey Epstein. Understandable. Embarrassing. Out he goes.

Fair warning — that was a pun. And it only really works in English. Which is precisely why this version exists. In German, the same line collapses into something flat: "Ach, vergiss es, Gapminder." That's the curious magic of language: meanings drift, shift, or simply fall apart in translation. Still, I found the sentence funny when I woke up, and even funnier once I was fully awake.

Motion is pure physics. Emotion is purely human. E-Motion is an electric vehicle. Anyone who has emotions — and occasionally shows them — has more than just trace elements of humanity to offer.

For fifty years, the family has lived next to the same neighbour. Every morning, a friendly nod across the driveway. They share an access road, a river, a history. Life and community work seamlessly and peacefully. Then one day, a dark cloud appears — one nobody saw coming. The cloud arrives as a document in an anonymous envelope in the mailbox. This single sheet of paper is pure dynamite for the neighbourhood. The document states that you and your family represent a serious and present threat to your neighbour’s interests. Excuse me?

When someone does business with the sick, something is wrong with the system. The association forced itself on me when I took the German word “Krankenkasse” — health insurance, literally “sick cash” — a little too literally to heart. Then I turned westward and noticed “Health Care” in Canada. Which translates, roughly, as “help for the ill.”

The impact was less hard than expected. But the burning on my cheek was impossible to ignore — and good advice was hard to come by. It felt like a clap in the face. Though this very thing — advice in certain situations — is often an uninvited guest. Or the fifth wheel on the wagon.

"Your story today is political again, Christian." Hmm. True. But that wasn't intentional — there was no deliberate plan to make this story political. Why? Because the perfectly ordinary lives we all lead always carry political weight.

The elegant living room has always been an aspiration — ever since civilization, and interior design, were invented.

He wasn’t suddenly there in the room. He’d been present for quite some time. But nobody wanted to notice Dumbo. Or worse: talk about Dumbo. That would be what you might call an absurdity. An absurdity by the name of Dumbo.

Risk? What reads here like the name of a chocolate bar turns out to be far more complex in practice — and rarely comes with any sweetness attached.