It was 11 p.m. Sunday when I asked myself the question so many people in our nation, and in our own community, have already asked themselves.
“Is the American dream personally failing me?”
Writer's block had me crippled for most of the evening. My regular schedule had been obliterated thanks to an all-day meeting scheduled for Monday.
My usual regimen gets me up at 5 a.m. to write the first draft of my column. I shower, ride my motorcycle to work, curse the texting drivers in their 4,000-pound SUVs, arrive at work juggling the first two hours of my day polishing my story and putting out fires in Corporate America, then I write my contribution to the In Theory column that is due at the same time, and finish the rest of my workday.