Good morning, friends, readers, admirers, and the many people who tell me every day, “John, how do you do it?” Frankly, I don’t always know. Some people are just born with tremendous talent for living life. It’s true.

Today started at exactly 6:00 AM. Early. Very early. Some people are still sleeping at six o’clock. Not me. I got up and immediately got to work on what can only be described as a championship breakfast.

We’re talking cereal. Two eggs. Sausage. Coffee.

A breakfast of winners.

Not one of these tiny little breakfasts they serve in trendy restaurants where they give you a single blueberry on a plate the size of a manhole cover and charge eighteen dollars. No. This was a serious breakfast. A breakfast with strength. A breakfast with purpose.

After breakfast I turned my attention to The Toe.

Many of you know about The Toe. It’s become something of a celebrity around here.

The nail had to be removed because of a fungal infection. Not pleasant. Nobody wants that. Believe me.

The thing that concerns me is that doctors love antibiotics. They absolutely love them. They hand them out like Halloween candy.

Now here’s the problem.

The last time I took antibiotics I ended up with C. diff.

Thirty-one weeks.

Thirty-one.

Weeks.

Trying to survive that nightmare.

And yet survive it I did.

Not only did I survive, I survived spectacularly.

The doctors couldn’t believe it.

They looked at me and said things like, “Remarkable recovery.”

One doctor practically needed smelling salts.

Another seemed genuinely shocked.

At eighty-seven years old they told me they rarely see recoveries like that.

I said, “Well, now you’ve seen one.”

That’s called experience, folks.

So when the toe doctor suggested another antibiotic I wasn’t exactly jumping up and down with excitement.

Instead we’re taking a conservative approach.

Topical medication.

Fresh bandages.

Careful observation.

A wait-and-see strategy.

And you know what?

This morning the toe looked better.

Noticeably better.

Less angry.

Less dramatic.

Less interested in becoming a problem.

I like that.

It’s moving in the right direction, and right now that’s all I ask.

Later I made lunch.

Now this is where things get very important.

I made my famous hamburger sandwiches.

I have spent years developing this recipe.

Years.

Testing.

Refining.

Perfecting.

Making adjustments only a true culinary genius would think to make.

My landlord, Jimmy—good guy, tremendous guy—took one bite and declared them the best I have ever made.

High praise.

Very high praise.

The highest, perhaps.

Now before everyone starts asking for the recipe, let me stop you right there.

Not happening.

I’ve learned my lesson.

Years ago whenever I shared recipes I would immediately get fifty comments from people saying things like:

“Well, I do it differently.”

“My grandmother used more paprika.”

“I put peanut butter on mine.”

Wonderful.

Terrific.

Congratulations.

Everyone apparently has their own recipe.

After a while I realized people weren’t actually interested in learning anything new. They just wanted to tell me about their own method.

So I stopped sharing recipes.

Simple.

If people don’t want to experience greatness, that’s their decision.

I’m not standing in their way.

As for the weather, here we are approaching the end of May 2026 and it still feels like a classic Michigan spring.

Mornings around fifty degrees.

Afternoons around seventy.

Cool evenings.

Perfect sleeping weather.

Absolutely perfect.

Which brings me to my bed.

A friend bought me a bed that cost approximately one thousand dollars.

A thousand-dollar bed.

Think about that.

When I was young, if somebody told me I’d someday own a thousand-dollar bed, I’d have assumed it came with a butler and a chauffeur.

But it is magnificent.

Very high off the floor.

Extremely comfortable.

A tremendous piece of furniture.

And believe me, it gets used.

Because every afternoon I take a nap.

An excellent nap.

A world-class nap.

The kind of nap only an eighty-seven-year-old professional can truly appreciate.

I sleep like an old dog lying in a patch of sunshine.

Deep sleep.

Quality sleep.

The best sleep.

I can practically sleep anywhere.

And when I wake up?

Refreshed.

Ready for action.

Recently I purchased a copper-infused pillow.

Some people may laugh.

Not me.

This pillow is incredible.

Possibly the most comfortable pillow I have ever owned.

Ever.

Since I started sleeping on it I’ve been having vivid dreams.

Fantastic dreams.

Interesting dreams.

The kind of dreams where you wake up thinking, “That should have been a movie.”

I love dreaming.

Always have.

Fortunately I rarely have nightmares.

When I do, they’re usually about factory work from many years ago.

Now don’t get me wrong.

I actually had a great factory job.

Good wages.

Solid middle-class income.

The kind of job that built America.

Then life changed.

I became very wealthy.

Extremely successful.

Then, because life likes to keep things interesting, I managed to lose it all and go bankrupt.

Not ideal.

Would not recommend.

But here’s the thing.

I recovered.

I rebuilt.

I reinvented myself.

And today I live comfortably once again.

Not quite the extravagant lifestyle of my peak years.

No gold-plated helicopters parked in the backyard.

Not currently.

But I have everything I need.

Everything I want.

No major hassles.

No major complaints.

At eighty-seven years old, that’s a pretty good place to be.

So that’s what’s happening in my world today.

The toe is improving.

The hamburgers were a huge success.

The weather is beautiful.

The bed remains tremendous.

The pillow is producing blockbuster dreams.

And life, despite all its surprises, continues to be very good.

Now I want to hear from you.

What’s happening in your life these days?

Leave a comment below and tell me your story.

And if your day wasn’t quite as exciting as mine, don’t feel bad.

Very few are.

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