What is it about the ocean and the waves on the beach that speaks so clearly about the relentless march of time, and how our lives are little more than momentary footprints in the sand? We are here for only a moment, until the waves, arriving with the steady beat of a metronome, wash away our presence and return the sand to its natural state. As if we were never there at all. And yet, we were, if only for a moment. The snow is piling up outside my window here in Central New Y

This past week, the last of 2025, found me coming back to a familiar set of images. Once again, twenty-foot waves are pounding the eastern shores of Lake Ontario. Gray skies, a staple here in Central New York, and wind howling with gusts exceeding 60 mph. Water smashing into the rock and concrete of the Oswego Harbor Lighthouse with zero interest in whatever is standing in its way. And like it always does this time of year, my mind goes to Gordon Lightfoot and his haunting so