Danny Taylor: Skinny Guy Thinking it Through

Last Saturday, my son went to Homecoming. He didn’t have a date, but he was far from alone. Eight special-ed students got into their suits with sloppily-knotted ties, their glittery dresses and freshly painted nails. They met at Chick-fil-a, throwing back waffle fries and lemonade like it was an open bar. Their parents forced them to pose in a hundred different locations for pictures, and they voiced their objection through smiles and gritted teeth.   We arrived to the venue a good thirty minutes before the dance was to start, while the DJ crew and decorations committee were still setting up. The Northview school administration (second to none in Ohio!) was kind enough to let them in early to take even more pictures. When their patience had run dry and they were no longer willing to stand for even just one more photo op, my son went to the DJ and made the first song request of the night: “Welcome to New York.” While the rest of Northview’s student body was filtering in, Matthew had...

Years ago, my family and I were locked in a virtual escape room with several friends in different parts of the country. In an online place of guaranteed doom, we fruitlessly poured over haphazard clues in an attempt to proceed to the next tier on our way to “freedom.” It wasn’t going well. We were stuck in the first of four levels of riddles knowing we could only ask for help three times; after that, we were on our own.   In the “room” were gifted, intelligent, well-educated professionals. Careful scientists and precise mathematicians assumed the virtual escape room would be rather easy: child's play, in light of all the degrees standing behind our names. Certainly the riddles of the escape room  could not outsmart our vast array of intelligence. Yet here we were, reviewing clues with a fine-tooth comb and uncovering nothing helpful.   Almost as an obnoxious interruption slicing through the intelligent discussion of the well-educated, my daughter—who must have been 8 at t...