Drove from Stamford, Connecticut, to Syracuse, New York, today, experiencing wind that nudged the car, brief whiteouts of blowing snow, and even bouts of clarity and relative calm. Several cars slid off the road or were involved in significant accidents, especially in the Catskills. Along with all these elements, the drive home delivered its metaphorical sermon on powerlessness. Sure, I grabbed that wheel and opened my eyes wide. But . . .
What would Kierkegaard say?
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