There’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow

March 3, 2026March 1, 2026 / jrmilson / Leave a comment

On Remembering the Past and Choosing Hope for Tomorrow.

Some weeks feel heavier than others.

The headlines are louder. The conversations a little tighter. The future — which usually stretches out like an open road — can feel uncertain around the edges.

And yet, tomorrow still arrives.

For as long as I can remember, there has been a song that comes back to me in moments like this. It plays inside my head almost without invitation:

“There’s a great big beautiful tomorrow, shining at the end of every day . . . .”

The song was written by Richard and Robert Sherman — the Sherman Brothers — for the Carousel of Progress, first introduced at the 1964–1965 New York World’s Fair in New York City.

The fair carried a hopeful motto: “Peace Through Understanding.”

It is hard to imagine a more necessary phrase in any generation.

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Just a Little Kindness

February 17, 2026February 10, 2026 / jrmilson / 2 Comments

There are days that arrive with banners and bugles, fanfares and frolic, parties and parades attached to them. Like Mardi Gras today.
And then there are days that simply tap softly on the door and wait.

Today is one of those.

Random Acts of Kindness Day does not ask for grand gestures or long explanations. It does not require a plan, a budget, or a public witness. It just asks us to notice — and then act — in whatever small way presents itself.

Sometimes that looks like holding a door a moment longer than is polite.
Sometimes it sounds like a “Thank You” said clearly, without rushing past it.
Sometimes it is letting someone go ahead of you when you are tired and in a hurry — and choosing not to make a story about it afterward.
Sometimes it is an unexpected visit.

Sometimes it is a note tucked into a lunch bag or backpack.
Sometimes it is paying for the order behind you in a drive-thru.
Sometimes it is a phone call made without waiting for the perfect moment.
Sometimes it is simply a smile and a moment of acknowledgment at the register.

The thing about kindness is that it rarely announces itself.
It tends to arrive quietly, do its work, and leave without asking to be remembered.

And that may be why it works.

A small kindness does not try to fix the world.
It simply steadies one corner of it.

And we never know how far the ripples may travel.

We never know what burden someone is carrying when they cross our path. The weight is often invisible. But kindness has a way of lightening a load, even if merely for a little while.

No spotlight required.
No tally kept.
No expectation of return.

Just a moment that says — You’re not alone here.

If today offers you a chance to show kindness — even a small, ordinary kind — take it.
And if it does not, be patient. These moments have a way of finding us most often when we are not looking for them.

And that has always felt like the truest kindness of all.

‘Til next time, then — Jim (and Red!)

P.S. Little Red Bear once said that kindness does not need to be big to be real.
The smallest kindnesses are often the easiest to carry — and the longest remembered.

“The Adventures of Little Red Bear: The First Holler!”

These illustrations were created with the assistance of AI.

A Short List of Things That Are Still Just Plain Good

February 12, 2026February 10, 2026 / jrmilson / Leave a comment

There are days when the world feels a little too loud and a little too busy explaining itself.

On those days, it helps to remember that not everything needs fixing, debating, improving, or shouting about. Some things are already doing their job just fine. They have been for a long time. They simply carry on, quietly, without asking for applause.

So here — for no particular reason other than it felt like a good moment — is a short list of things that are still just plain good.

Not perfect.
Not flashy.
Just . . . . good.

A fresh cup of coffee that tastes exactly the way you hoped it would.
Not better than expected. Not worse. Just right. The kind that lets you take a slow sip and think . . . . “Yes. That’ll do.”

A handwritten note.
Even a short one. Even a crooked one. The kind where you can tell the writer paused for a moment before finishing the sentence.

A dog asleep in the sun.
No ambition. No agenda. Just fully committed to a relaxing nap in the afternoon.

A cat choosing to sit near you.
Not because it was asked. Because it decided. Which somehow makes it feel like a small honour.

A well-worn book that falls open to a favourite page.
Like it remembers where you left off last time — and waited there for you.

The sound of someone laughing in the next room.
Especially when you do not know the joke, and it does not matter.

The sound of children laughing and playing.
Inside or outside. Close by or down the street. It always reminds us that things are going right somewhere.

A front porch — or whatever serves as one.
A chair by a window counts. So does a stoop. A step. Or the edge of a bed where you linger for a moment longer than planned.

Kindness that does not announce itself.
No trumpet. No explanation. Just a small adjustment or touch made for someone else’s comfort.

Old sayings that still manage to be true.
The kind you used to roll your eyes at — until one day you catch yourself repeating them.

Something that works the way it always has.
A lamp. A watch. A sunrise. There is a quiet relief in reliability, and in knowing some things still arrive on time..

And for me, a rainy afternoon with a new story waiting to be told.
Nothing urgent. Nothing polished yet. Just the promise of words finding their way.

But then again . . . . the feeling that today does not need to be extraordinary to be worthwhile.
Ordinary will do just fine.

None of these things will trend.
None of them will fix everything.

But taken together, they do something better.

They remind us that simple goodness has not gone anywhere. It has simply stayed where it always was — in familiar places, doing familiar work, waiting to be noticed again.

And perhaps that is just plain good enough for today, isn’t it?

What might you add to the list?

‘Til next time, then — Jim (and Red!)

P.S.
Little Red Bear read this list over my shoulder and cleared his throat — politely — to point out that tea belongs on any list of good things worth keeping close.
He is not wrong. We are, after all, tea people.

“The Adventures of Little Red Bear: The First Holler!”

These illustrations were created with the assistance of AI.