Someone told me recently that after I had a conversation with his colleague, the colleague told him, "I got good information for the first half hour, then he went all ADD on me."

First, I appreciated the candid information. An important mentor of mine, Robert Lefton, was an advocate for candid observations. Candid reporting allows us to respond, adjust, and move forward. In addition Lefton pointed out, since we all have growing edges, if the candor doesn't sting a bit, as the observation delivered to me did, it probably isn't candid enough. The truth can hurt. Candor takes courage to deliver and courage to receive.

Today's post is a brief review of Astronaut Cady Coleman's book, Sharing Space.

One might think referring to someone as an astronaut would be both the ultimate and definitive thing one could say. However, with Astronaut, Air Force Lt. Colonel, MIT graduate, Chemistry Ph.D., Flute accompanist for Jethro Tull, fluent in Norwegian and Russian, parent, and now author, it's hard for me to escape the feeling, "Cady, leave something for the rest of us to do."

Last year I wrote about the correct practice I had to find in order to catch a ball. If you haven't read it, you'll learn what a 35-year-old, half-blind, cross-eyed guy had to practice in order to reliably catch a moving object for the first time.

At the start of my senior year at my all-boys Catholic high school, the Age of Aquarius was in sunrise, and the Xaverian Brothers, like all reasonably observant adults of the time, were awakening to the realization that a profound and terrible shift had occurred -- that they no longer were in control of the culture, and that there was a grand and glorious joke that seemed to be on them.