When I was 13, I watched my first Winter Olympics in glorious black-and-white. I marveled at meticulously-executed spins and glides as Carol Heiss nabbed the gold medal in women’s figure skating. Her performance was flawless, as were those of many athletes competing in Squaw Valley. But the ski jumpers had me spellbound.

I love the smell of college football in the air and Paul Finebaum blasting from my flat screen. Some people call it fall, but I call it football season as the golf season wanes into the Fed Ex Cup playoffs followed by the Ryder Cup. How does this fit into mindfulness and the alternative perspectives this column is known for, you may ask? There’s a time and a season for everything and everybody, isn’t there? Besides, the point of meditation or mindfulness is to find you in the everyday.

Time was when the words to a country song entitled “Get Along” might be followed by “little dogie,” sung by the likes of Tex Ritter or Sons of the Pioneers, romanticizing cowboys of the Old West. Now Kenney Chesney, with more than 30 million albums sold worldwide under his belt, has broached a very different and timely subject in his recent release of that title.