Thank you for asking me to speak at your high school commencement. You all look great — and so young! It’s a sign of age when teenagers look younger than they are, while you yourself look older than you imagine.

But age also allows me to share the following thoughts, which I hope one day you will remember as worthwhile.

My own high school graduation was exactly five decades ago this week. I still remember that day, which is good, because we took pictures with an Instamatic camera, and I have no idea where those few photos are now. There was no video. No iPhones or Androids. It wasn’t streamed or uploaded. You were there or you missed it.

Which is where I want to begin. Being present. Eyes forward. Neck straight. If there is a first piece of good advice for the Class of 2026, it is this:

Put the phone away.

Live life. Don’t pose it. Experience things. Don’t scroll them. Life is not a screen, but it surely has become one. If it’s not recorded today, it seemingly doesn’t count. If you can’t share it, it’s diminished.

Apple developed the first front-facing camera iPhone in 2010. Most of you were 2 years old. Which means you are the first Selfie Generation.

Maybe you like that.

But I believe something was lost when we stopped needing people to take our pictures and started doing it ourselves. It heralded the age of making us the center of everything, and the way we presented to the world being more important than how we truly looked or felt inside.

What matters now is how you are perceived, how many friends and likes you have, how many clicks and reposts you earn.

This isn’t healthy. Yours is not the first generation to worry about image. Just the first to make it a religion.

Walk away. Put the phone down. Try an hour a day without being online. Then two. Then four. Witness how an unplugged world changes light.

Have a little faith

And speaking of religion, a word about that. Statistics show that the number of young people who identify with a religious faith, or say it is a major part of their lives, is at an all-time low.

I’m not here to tell you what or how to believe. Only to ask a simple question: If you don’t believe in a higher power, what do you believe in?

If the answer is “my fellow man,” the world doesn’t reflect it. Look around. We are crueler to one another than we have been in a long time.

If the answer is “nature and the planet,” fair enough, as long as you never let the water run, or leave a charger plugged in, or swim with sunscreen on, or drink from a plastic bottle.

If the answer is “AI,” I can’t comment, because the jury remains out. I can tell you only what I sense: That will not end well.

And if the answer is “nothing,” it breaks my heart. Because, to paraphrase an old song, if you believe in nothing, you can fall for anything. Including making ambition, fame or celebrity your idols.

Please don’t. Look to one another for inspiration. What I lament about the loss of faith in our country isn’t how many people say they believe in God. God doesn’t need attendance figures. But what so often comes with a sense of faith is a sense of community — being part of something and having an obligation to others. That is critical.

Which leads me to a catchy phrase. It even rhymes. “Giving is living.” An old professor taught me that.

He was dying from a terminal illness. People would come from all over to try and cheer him up, but quickly, he would turn the conversation around and start asking about their issues, their work, their relationships. Often, they would end up crying and thanking him for his advice.

When I asked why he was spending his dwindling days doling out sympathy instead of taking it, he said that taking just made him feel like he was dying, but giving made him feel like he was living.

I cannot share a more precious lesson than that.

Embrace the unknown

One more thing. Be kinder to yourselves. Young people I meet today seem so worried. They fret that they don’t have a life plan. They’re consumed by getting into the right college. Or else the opposite: They are depressed, have little hope or expectation. They feel the future is rigged against them.

None of that is true. But this is: Life goes no faster for you than the person halfway around the world. It’s a minute-by-minute, day-by-day experience.

You can’t have it all figured out by 16. You’re not supposed to. You can’t be locked into knowing how your career will go by 18. You’re not supposed to.

The answer “I don’t know yet” is both the truest thing kids your age can say and often the one you hate the most. Don’t hate. It’s OK not to know. Here’s a little secret. The older you get, the less certain you often become, and the more likely you are to feel smaller rather than bigger.

That’s OK. It’s a huge world. Feeling overwhelmed occasionally can be a sign of respecting its magnitude.

And if it leads to a little thing called humility, embrace that. It is one of humanity’s most precious qualities.

Trust me. The future isn’t there to hammer you. It’s a rolled-up carpet that unfolds an inch at a time. Don’t punish yourself for not having the entire floor already covered. The joy is in the reveal.

Which is where I will wrap up this little talk. Joy. There is still so much of it in this world, but perhaps not where you think.

It’s not in the Big. It’s not in the products that commercials claim will make you happy. It’s not in the movies that hound you to see “what everyone is talking about.”

Joy is in the Small. The feel of your child’s head on your shoulder. The late-night laughter you share with a friend. The cooling breeze that hits you in a blazing sun. The smell of a favorite dish your mother used to cook. The song that comes on the radio that makes you sway. A simple kiss.

None of these cost money. None requires a screen. They just need you to make the memory, then hold onto it.

Just as you should hold onto this moment. Graduation. You pass from high school to college or a job. From childhood to early adulthood. From the bedroom in your parent’s house to one that you call your own.

Cherish the change, because life is truly a collection of passages from one to the other. If you can go into one tunnel with curiosity and emerge from it anxious for the next, then, as Rudyard Kipling wrote, yours is the world and all that’s in it.

Just remember, when you get to the end, if there’s a life after this one, I’m pretty sure the first question asked won’t be:

What model iPhone did you have?

Thank you. And good luck.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

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I’m Mitch Albom. Over the years, through my columns and books like Tuesdays with Morrie, I’ve learned that the most important things in life usually happen in the quiet moments between people.

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It never failed. Week after week. Call after call. “How’s the weather?” Holidays. Birthdays. “How’s the weather?” As I aged into my teens, I associated their question with pity. “How’s the weather?” was clearly something old people asked when they had nothing else to talk about.

Times change.

I am writing this column with 9 inches of snow outside my Michigan window and a temperature gauge that reads minus 1, as one of the worst winter storms in many years is poised to impact the entire country. There are warnings of “catastrophic” ice accumulations in the South, windchills in the minus 40s in the Midwest, heavy snow or ice in at least 34 states, and an affected population of up to 230 million Americans.

One winter storm?

Two-thirds of the country?

In the many decades I have been writing this column, I have covered topics ranging from poverty to sled dogs, from the Olympics to Ozempic. I have never, near as I can recall, devoted an entire column to the weather.

A cold wind is blowing.

Times change.

Watching the weather …

Let’s face it. Weather has morphed from forecast to fear. From almanac to apocalypse. Weather used to tell us what clothes we should wear; now it seems to foretell the end of the world.

What changed? It happened in steps. Up until the mid-20th century, children concerned themselves with only a few weather-related facts:

1) Will it rain (so we can play in the mud)?

2) Will it snow (so we can sled down the hill)?

3) Will school be canceled (please)?

As adults, our concerns shifted slightly:

1) Will it rain (and ruin my clothes and hair)?

2) Will it snow (and make driving a mess)?

3) Will school be canceled (and I have to watch the kids)?

Then came the 1970s and ’80s, when TV news replaced brief weather reports with “meteorologists.” Weather info increased exponentially. The Weather Channel arrived in the 1980s, which gave 24-hour-a-day access to climate nerds. This was followed by seemingly endless radar prediction innovations in the 1990s and 2000s.

Armed with all these new ways to measure, we became more and more engrossed in what was happening in the clouds and sky. Low pressure systems. Humidity. Windchill. Heat index. I remember living in Florida in the 1980s, when weather began consuming four or five minutes of a 20-minute nightly news broadcast. And heaven forbid a hurricane was coming! It was wall-to-wall coverage.

It reminded me of that old Paul Simon lyric, “I get all the news I need on the weather report.”

There was plenty of it.

Winds of change

Not surprisingly, armed with all this data, when the climate change issue moved to the forefront, the American public was greased and ready to be engrossed. And now, winter storms like the one this weekend aren’t just about how much snow we will have to shovel, they’re about the future of the world. Hurricanes, heat waves, massive cold fronts, all bring, along with their rain or beating sun, warnings of how much time we have left on the planet.

There is no, “Boy we had a lot of snow this year.” It’s now, “Boy we had a lot of snow this year — what do you think that means?” 

One big problem, however. Americans are now so inundated with weather information, we don’t know what to believe. For every activist who screams “We’ve never seen climate like this!” there’s a cynic with ancient almanacs that yells, “Sure, we have!’’

For every “alarmist” with a doomed climate model, there’s a “realist” with differing satellite data.

For every protester who insists we change our economies to save ourselves from disaster, there’s an economist who insists that would do more harm than good.

And even though most of the world seems to agree that the globe is warming, many regular folks will pull on their ski masks and winter coats this week and ask, “Then why is it so damn cold?”

I wish I had the answer. Most of us wish we had the answer. All I know is, if I went outside and spit right now, it might freeze before it hit my shoe.

I miss the days when we didn’t have to think about climate this much. And I wonder if my grandparents — when they repeatedly asked me, “How’s the weather?” — knew more than they let on.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

It’s one of those moments both parties wish didn’t have to happen. It’s somber. Downbeat. Sometimes tearful.

But never encouraging.

For 22 seconds last weekend, that changed. In a press conference immediately after his team’s tough 27-23 playoff loss to Buffalo, the coach of the Jacksonville Jaguars, Liam Coen, took a question from a native Detroit woman named Lynn Jones, now a white-haired, 64-year-old associate editor of the Jacksonville Free Press.

It wasn’t really a question.

“I just want to tell you, congratulations on your success, young man,” Jones said. “You hold your head up, all right? You guys have had a most magnificent season. You did a great job out there today. You just hold your head up, OK? Ladies and gentlemen, Duval (County), you’re the one. You keep it going. We got another season, OK? Take care and much continued success to you and the entire team.”

As she spoke, Coen mumbled “thank you” and “appreciate it.” Near the end, he even pushed up a smile.

But not everyone was smiling.

A pretty sad state

The exchange went viral after an ESPN reporter posted it and called it “awesome.” And of course, once anything is posted, the world has to weigh in.

While many fans gave a thumbs-up, some reporters decried the moment as unprofessional, including one who wrote, “Uplifting the head coach after a loss is not part of a sports reporter’s job.” Another wrote, “Reporters should be in PR if they want to carry on like this.”

An AP reporter called it “embarrassing for the people who credentialed her” and “a waste of time for those of us actually working.”

These sentiments were met with a barrage of criticism from the other side, including media-haters, media critics, and former athletes like Pat McAfee, who posted: “Love seeing these sports ‘journalists’ getting ABSOLUTELY BURIED for being curmudgeon bums.”

Now, McAfee, a former punter who makes around $17 million a year from ESPN and pays quarterback Aaron Rodgers over $1 million to appear on his show, doesn’t live the life of a typical sports media member.

And, no, that one reporter wasn’t wrong, uplifting losing coaches is generally not part of the media’s job.

On the other hand, if we’ve reached the point where someone being kind to someone else — for 22 seconds — is worth damning them publicly, we’re in a pretty sad state.

‘Like an auntie’

So I reached out to Jones, who, it turns out, grew up by Livernois and Warren, “near the White Castle,” and used to walk to Tiger Stadium as a kid.

“I lived in Detroit until I was 30 years old,” she told me. “Then we went to Jacksonville Beach on a vacation and oh my God, we had the most magnificent time.”

After her father passed away, Jones said, “he left me a check” and she quickly moved to Jacksonville full time. One of her first jobs there was working for the Jaguars, so she has a history with the team. She later went into journalism and now writes and is associate editor for the Jacksonville Free Press, a weekly newspaper and one of several hundred serving Black communities in the United States.

“Now that I think about it, the room did get a little quiet. I know some people feel I should have asked a question. But is there a protocol? I didn’t get a sheet telling me I can’t say congratulations.”

Jones said she knew something was up when moments later she got a nice text from a colleague who said, “You sounded like an auntie.” Then more texts followed. Then her phone blew up.

Next thing she knew, she was doing interviews across the country.

And today, if you go to the Jacksonville Free Press’ website, they are selling T-shirts with her words on it, with the profits, they say, going to scholarships.

Making room for kindness

Since this happened, I’ve been asked many times for my opinion, perhaps because I’ve been in postgame press conferences for more than 40 years.

Well, T-shirts aside, I’d say both sides need to lighten up. What Jones did was kind, empathetic and uplifting, and I refuse to find fault with anything described by those three words.

Was it normal? No. Did it belong in a “media” conference? Probably not.

Then again, the nastiness that marks virtually every White House press conference these days doesn’t belong there either. But we seem to be tolerating it. And if we’re willing to tolerate such ugliness, why not make room for some unusual sweetness?

At the same time, critics like McAfee jumping all over sports reporters is also inappropriate. They don’t, as McAfee suggested, hate sports. Quite the contrary. They likely got into the field because they love sports.

But the people who populate sports today — players, coaches, general managers, owners — frequently hate the media. They insult them. Blow them off. Treat them disrespectfully. Lump them as “you guys.”

And for the most part, the media tolerates it. Silently. Dutifully. Begrudgingly. That’s no fun, either.

So both sides could take a lesson from Jones, who is merrily cruising through all this, knowing that when you’re on the side of kindness and optimism, you don’t have anything to be ashamed of.

“People have been calling me fake media,” she said. “I haven’t even responded to that.”

Nor should she have to. After all, it was a guy named Grantland Rice, who, more than 100 years ago, penned the phrase “Wait until next year.”

He was a sportswriter.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

The shelves weren’t empty. There was plenty to choose. What we meant by “nothing to eat” was nothing we wanted to eat.

Which brings us to the American diet.

Last week, the Department of Agriculture released a fresh set of guidelines for what we should and shouldn’t consume. It contained a new “food pyramid,” a relic from the last century in which recommended foods make up the wide part and foods to be minimalized make up the narrow point.

This new pyramid flipped the script from pyramids past. The one from the 1990s recommended grains and starches — including bread, cereal and pasta — as the highest intake, with fats and oils at the bottom.

The 2026 version puts protein, dairy, healthy fats and vegetables at the top, and grains in the basement.

Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the new Health and Human Services secretary, apparently had major input on this list. He told the media it represented “the most significant reset of federal nutrition policy in history.”

Maybe. But when I read it, it only confirms what I have long believed:

Nothing generates more opinions in this country than what you should eat.

A generational thing

Remember the Woody Allen film “Annie Hall” where he says, “Everything our parents said was good is bad. Sun, milk, red meat … college.”

That’s kind of how it is with food. Every generation has its strong beliefs about what’s good for you, and the next generation says: “You’re nuts.”

(Speaking of nuts, they used to be down there with fish and poultry, but now those two have jumped to the top and nuts are down with bananas and cereal. Go figure.)

Our grandparents used to tell us we should eat red meat every day. A glass of milk before bed was good for you. Potatoes were a vegetable.

Then came all kinds of fad diets. A grapefruit diet. A raw food diet. For a while, everyone was supposed to eat low-fat, high-carb foods. Then everyone was supposed to eat low-carb, high-fat foods.

Ted Nugent swears by eating red meat every day, but only the kind he kills and cleans himself. Other folks eat only vegetables — no meat, no dairy, not even fish. Certain doctors claim moderation of all foods is enough. Others say your gut is your second brain.

The contradictions from place to place and person to person can give you a stomachache. Grains are good; grains are bad. Have yogurt every day; ugh, dairy is terrible for you. Cheese is great, look at the French; cheese is terrible, look at pizza eaters.

Whole milk is awful; oat milk is worse. Chocolate is a no-no; dark chocolate is healthy. Fats make you fat; fats are a key to brain health. Coffee makes you nervous; a cup a day is better than none. An apple a day makes you sick from pectin.  

In the United States, EAT should stand for Every Available Thought.

When junk food wins out

So now we have a new pyramid, and some folks are up in arms about it. They say Kennedy is a crazy man. How can meat and milk be good for you? How can moderation with alcohol be better than a firm limit? How can butter be a “healthy” fat?

And lost in all of this is that the majority of Americans are still like our kid selves by the refrigerator: all these recommendations and nothing we want to eat.

So instead, we go for junk. We shop in the “snacks” aisle. We grab fast food. Why is it that with all this eating advice, all this information, all the science and manufacturing that has gone into “healthy food” research and development, Americans are consuming more processed foods than ever?

Because we want what we want. We ignore the advice. Or maybe we just get too confused by the contradictions.

In which case, one clear conclusion by the new report is dead on target: Stop consuming things like potato chips, pork rinds, processed meats and pop.

Stop with the sugary drinks and doughnuts for breakfast. Knock off the peanut-butter pretzels, the ice cream cones, the fried everything.

If Americans did nothing but that, health would dramatically improve, the cost of medical care would drop, and no one would have to worry about how many avocados we ate every day.

But food is big business, and when you put profit and health in the same ring, health usually gets knocked out.

So we go on arguing, and maybe 100 years from now, we’ll find out that French fries and Cool Whip were actually the best things for our bodies.

Until then, I’m waiting for a pyramid that says: “Never eat any food advertised during a football game.”

It would be so much easier to keep track.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

Dan Campbell said that nearly two years ago, right after the Detroit Lions blew a 17-point lead in the NFC championship game. At the time, I thought the coach was being bravely honest and emotionally raw.

I didn’t think he was being a prophet.

But the Lions’ Super Bowl chances have gone steadily downhill ever since. Last year, they crapped out in a divisional-round playoff upset. This year, with eight losses already, they’re missing the playoffs altogether.

Now, I can’t tell Campbell how to coach. I can’t tell Jared Goff how to elude pressure. I can’t teach an offensive lineman how to not miss his block, or show a defensive back how to play smarter coverage.

I can’t do that, and neither can you, because we are not professional players or coaches.

But we are fans. So I can offer the following three scenarios for how to deal with the latest Lions’ disappointment in the months to come — as a fan — depending on your type.

The Die-hard Fan

If you are this breed of fan, then you will point out the positives. The Lions have some terrific players under contract. Campbell is an exceptionally good coach. General manager Brad Holmes has had great drafts before. And neither man is likely to sit still this offseason.

Both Campbell and Holmes have been humbled by the 2025 campaign. The loss to Minnesota on Thursday, Dec. 25, was the low point. Campbell, who prides himself on having his teams ready, didn’t get that done. The Lions looked worse than a Vikings team with nothing to play for, a third-string quarterback and multiple absences on the offensive line.

Meanwhile, Holmes had to be cringing watching his second- and third-stringers perform like Not Ready For Prime Time Players.

The Die-hard Fan points to the Kansas City Chiefs, last year’s Super Bowl participants, who are now sitting with a 6-10 record. Does anyone believe they will never be back?

“Playoffs next year,” The Die-hard Fan says. “Bigger and better. On we go!”

His glass is always half-full.

Next, there’s …

The Realist Fan

This fan wants to believe, but also understands a few truths about NFL football: A.) Windows open and close. B.) Other teams also want to win.

The latter is the kind of thing that got forgotten in 2025, particularly in the November game against Minnesota, the Thanksgiving game against Green Bay and the Week 16 home game against Pittsburgh. The narratives going into those contests — the Vikings were bad and starting a raw quarterback; the Lions wanted revenge against the Pack; the Lions faced a must-win against a Steelers team with a bad defense — all favored Detroit.

But too often in Motown, we act like the Lions are the only determinant in the game — that all they have to do is want it enough to win.

“Hey,” The Realist says, “the other team wants it, too. Their players want to look good. They have guys who play hard. Unless you come in every week fully charged, healthy and in domination mode, you will always have a battle in the NFL. And a handful of plays will determine the outcome.”

The Realist admires what Holmes did in 2022 (picking Aidan Hutchinson, trading up to get Jameson Williams) and 2023 (drafting LaPorta, Jahmyr Gibbs, Jack Campbell and Brian Branch) but he also sees that 2024 and 2025 haven’t come close to producing such talent, and Holmes’ inactivity at trade deadlines and free agency reveals a too-stubborn valuing of draft picks over desperately needed fixes.

The Realist looks at the NFC North and sees Chicago on the rise, Green Bay not going anywhere, and a Minnesota team that often gives the Lions fits. The Realist can’t ignore the Lions are last in their division.

But The Realist still watches with hope. He doesn’t deny the Lions’ successes. He doesn’t think the 2023 postseason was a myth. He doesn’t think the 15-2 regular season last year was a mirage. He doesn’t believe in curses.

Those traits belong to …

The ‘Same Old Lions’ Fan

This type, “SOL” for short, believes all of this is predestined. It’s the Curse of Bobby Layne. It’s the curse of the Ford family ownership. It’s in the water. It’s in the air. It doesn’t matter how many promising players or stunning wins the Lions deliver. It will always end badly.

The SOL Fan doesn’t see silver or Honolulu Blue. He only sees gray. He thinks Holmes had a lucky draft in 2023 and has bungled everything since. He already wants Campbell fired. He sees Goff as a one-dimensional quarterback who can’t do anything once he’s chased from the pocket. He says Hutchinson is overrated and now overpaid. He says the Lions’ training staff should all be fired, because all they produce is a M*A*S*H* unit, year after year.

The SOL Fan watches the present but only sees the past. He sees Aaron Rodgers killing the Lions’ chances as a Packer and then again as a Steeler. He sees the 2023 Lions reach the NFC championship game and wither just like the 1991 Lions did, not to return for three decades.

The SOL Fan predicts doom, expects doom, and often gets it. Right now, nothing about the 2025 season surprises him, other than the fact that anyone expected otherwise.

“This is who the Lions are,” The SOL Fan moans. “Expect heartbreak. Get heartbreak. They never disappoint.”

So which are you? Die-hard? Realist? SOL? Or something in between?

Wherever you land, just know that fans in 16 other cities are going through the same thing right now, some in shock (Kansas City, Cincinnati, Washington), some in mild surprise (Tampa Bay, Dallas), some because they absolutely expect it (Cleveland, the Jets).

Losing, as Goff said, “sucks.”

That’s the only thing that every type of fan can agree on.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

Amon-Ra St. Brown caught a fourth-down pass within spitting distance of the goal line. But he got sandwiched by two Pittsburgh Steelers defenders, and, realizing he was about to go down as the clock expired, scooped the ball to his quarterback Jared Goff, who dove into the end zone for an apparent game-winning touchdown.

The crowd exploded! That play had heart! It had guts! It had magical destiny written all over it!

It also had a penalty: Offensive pass interference on St. Brown.

Which meant the touchdown never happened, and the win never happened – just as the 2025 season Detroit Lions fans were expecting never happened.

Wake up and smell the standings. The Lions are 8-7. They are all but done.

Blue Christmas.

“We had an opportunity to win the game which is ultimately what you want,” said a clearly disappointed coach Dan Campbell after the 29-24 loss to Pittsburgh that all but killed the Lions’ playoff hopes. “But … we’re the ones who put ourselves in the position where we had to try and score on the last play. …

“It was just too little, too late.”

Let’s be blunt.

It’s been too little for too long.

A Lions season waiting to crumble

Look, sooner or later, a house of sticks is going to crumble. For weeks, the Lions have been trying to fortify their playoff hopes with second-stringers, third-stringers and new arrivals. They’ve altered the offense to cover holes for countless injured linemen and tight ends.  They’ve altered the defense to cover weak spots left by the injured Kerby Joseph, Brian Branch and Terrion Arnold. Every time they lost to a top team, the Lions tinkered, tweaked and rallied to beat the next opponent.

But you can only move pieces around so much before talent diminishes and confusion reigns. On Sunday, Dec. 21, in a game they absolutely had to win, the Lions were laying their biggest egg of the season, including a third quarter that saw them run a total of three offensive plays, the last of which was a sack of Goff in the end zone for a safety. Then, finally, well into the fourth quarter, they scrambled back as only they can do.

Down by 12, they drove 68 yards to cut the lead to five on a touchdown pass from Goff to Jahmyr Gibbs, then saw the Steelers miss a field goal to send the Ford Field crowd into a frenzy. They’re still alive! There’s still a chance! Detroit used the rest of the clock to drive 72 yards to get into position for those fateful closing moments.

“What did you make of that last play?” someone asked Campbell. “The penalty? The apparent touchdown?”

“I don’t even want to get into it,” he said, his face reddening, “because it’s not going to change anything. We still lost.”

Exactly. While fans will long remember those crazy final seconds, and the agonizing sight of Aaron Rodgers once again celebrating a bizarre victory at Ford Field, it was everything that came before that play that lost the day.

It was a vanishing rushing game that only produced 15 yards all afternoon, despite facing one of the weaker defenses in the league, and despite having two healthy running backs – Gibbs and David Montgomery – at their disposal.

It was a porous defense that allowed Pittsburgh to score slowly and score quickly – a nearly 10-minute drive for a field goal followed by two two-minute drives for touchdowns, both capped with 45-yard scores by running back Jaylen Warren, explosive dashes that made Detroit’s run defense look second-rate.

Every key third down, it seemed, was converted by Pittsburgh. The Lions defenders, especially their backfield, were often out of sync, out of position, and out of gas.

It was 481 yards allowed. It was 200 yards rushing and two critical fourth downs surrendered. It was no interceptions and only two sacks on the 42-year-old Rodgers, who outsmarted the coverage time and time again, including spotting a linebacker, Alex Anzalone, on a running back, Kenneth Gainwell, with moments left in the first half. Rodgers threw a bomb that Gainwell, despite having been knocked down by Anzalone, somehow caught on his chest.

Gainwell popped to his feet, untouched, and ran in for a tying touchdown with 2 seconds left before halftime.

“Rodgers” Campbell admitted, “is really good at messing with you.”

It was all that – and it was mistakes. Fans might already be forgetting that, before that wild last play, the Lions had the ball down to the 1 with 25 seconds left, before having a St. Brown touchdown nullified by offensive pass interference on Isaac TeSlaa (go back 10 yards) followed by a false-start penalty on Kingsley Eguakun, who was making the first start of his career at center (back another 5 yards.)

So instead of the potential game-winning play from 1 yard away, they had 16 yards to go.

These are all avoidable setbacks, and all part of the reason the Lions lost this game long before that final, desperate spectacle.

“It’s frustrating,” Campbell said, “I mean, look, we just lost two in a row.”

That hasn’t happened in three years.

Blue Christmas.

Biting into a poison apple

In the subdued aftermath of the loss, Goff faced the media and was asked what it felt like to be on the outside of the playoffs looking in.

“We haven’t had that feeling (in a while.) It’s creeping in on us now. We got to find a way. I think it goes back to what Dan’s message was. Are we who we say we are?”

That’s an important sentence. Are we who we say we are? Because this year, the Lions – and, let’s be fair, their fans and most of the media – acted like the team was destined for the playoffs and likely much more. There was talk of a Super Bowl. There was talk of a winning culture finally taking hold, and the Lions becoming a franchise that would not be denied excellence.

But what we think and what the Lions have done has not aligned, for many reasons. Detroit is now just one game over. 500. It’s even possible they finish with a losing record. With the exception of a Week 2 blowout of the Bears, they haven’t yet beaten a team that’s for sure going to the playoffs. They haven’t strung two wins together since early October.

Blame injuries. Blame coaching changes. Blame karma. If you watched Chicago beat Green Bay on Saturday night, you could feel the difference between the franchises this year. The Bears, helmed by Detroit’s former offensive coordinator Ben Johnson, seem kissed by destiny. The Lions seem to have bitten a poison apple.

Yes, we should acknowledge there is still a small chance of a postseason birth, if Detroit wins out and Green Bay loses twice. But believing that will happen is part of the magical thinking that has blinded us to the fact that this team is now down to the studs on defense, doesn’t pressure the quarterback enough, cannot protect or run block the way it used to and keeps games close while losing as often as it wins.

That’s no fun to hear.

The truth often isn’t.

“We’re big boys in this league, man,” Campbell said. “You pull your pants up and you go to work. And you can’t feel sorry for yourself. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting. … But we have nobody to blame but ourselves.”

Honest. Admirable. And about as much fun to swallow as rotten eggnog. As the December snow hardens, this is the first time in three years we can say this: The Lions are on a losing streak.

Thanks a lot, Santa.

Blue Christmas.

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.

Beneath its branches were gifts of various sizes, marked with cards to identity their contents. One expensively-wrapped gift read: “Prosperity.” Another flashing one read: “Technology.” There was a huge blue package that simply said “AVATAR.”

But one small box caught my eye. It was open. The wrapping paper had been ripped away. The top was off. Inside, I saw the box was empty, as if its contents had been dumped out.

I picked up a fallen card, torn in half.

It read: “Civility.”

Just then, I heard a small bang. I ran across the room and saw Civility itself trying to open the window.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Civility said. “I’m out of style. Out of touch. So I’m outta here.”

I watched it try to undo the window latch. Unfortunately, like most nouns, Civility didn’t have hands.

“Ummph,” it grunted. “How does this thing work?”

“I’ll get it,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Civility smiled. “See? Was that so hard? Saying ‘You’re welcome?’ ”

I thought for a moment. I closed the lock.

“I thought you were going to help me,” Civility said.

“First, can I ask why you’re leaving?”

“May you ask?’

“Yes. May I ask why you’re leaving.”

Civility sighed. Politely. But a sigh just the same.

Times are tough for Civility ― and civility

“Once,” Civility said, “I was the belle of the Christmas ball. It was the time of year when I shone the brightest. People were polite. They were kind and charitable. They went door to door caroling. And even if the carolers were slightly off key, the neighbors always smiled.”

“And today?” I asked.

“Today, they check their Ring cameras, and if it’s not an Amazon delivery, they threaten to call the police. Or they yell “Porch Pirate!”

“Hmm,” I said. “Well, surely people are more civil outside the home?”

“Where?” Civility asked. “The workplace? People are so nasty in the workplace, emails should come with detonation instructions.”

“What about the shopping mall?”

“Have you ever seen two desperate parents when there’s only one Star Wars Lego set left?”

“How about online?”

“Social media?” Civility shook its head as best it could, since nouns don’t have necks. “Have you ever read the reaction when an overweight person posts a photo in Christmas sweater? Santa Claus doesn’t have a naughty list long enough for those responses! It’s so bad that —”

“But you can’t just —” I stopped. “Sorry. I interrupted you.”

“No, please, go right ahead,” Civility said.

“Really?”

“I insist.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“It’s what I do.”

“Right. Anyhow, you can’t just walk out on us. How would we talk to each other? What would America be if it gave up on civil discourse?”

“I’m afraid,” Civility said, “that ship has sailed …”

A heck of a virtue

Civility waved its arm, or whatever passes as an arm on a noun. And the walls turned into a mural of rude, insensitive and downright mean moments from 2025. There was a football game between the University of Colorado and Brigham Young where the Colorado student section yelled slurs against Mormons. There were reality TV shows where the contestants consistently berated each other. And there was an entire wall devoted to the President Donald Trump, yelling “Piggy” at a reporter, berating the Ukrainian president for not being grateful enough and posting that Rob and Michelle Reiner’s murder by their son was somehow due to their “Trump Derangement Syndrome.”

Civility shrugged. “Like I said, I’m out of style.”

With that, Civility slid under the closed window frame and tumbled out into the snow. I ran outside, to find it shivering and gasping for breath.

I gathered it up, took it inside and warmed it by the fire. In time, Civility began to glow.

“Thank you,” it said, leaning back into the couch. “I didn’t realize it was so cold out there. I’ve never tried to run away before.”

“Listen,” I said. “If we promised to try and remember our manners, would you consider getting back in the gift box?”

“I don’t know …”

“You are a gift to this country.”

“Well,” Civility said, “America did used to value me. Heck, even the early civics classes in this country were about me.”

It leaned in. “Sorry about the word ‘heck.’ ”

“No problem,” I said.

Civility sneezed.

“God bless you,” I said.

Civility slowly smiled. It rose from the couch, walked back to the box, and pulled the cover over its head.

“God bless you, too,” it said.

And as I taped up the wrapping paper and replaced the bow, I heard a voice from inside say, “If you don’t mind, could you place me next to Technology? I want to discuss this TikTok thing …”

Contact Mitch Albom: malbom@freepress.com. Check out the latest updates on his charities, books and events at MitchAlbom.com. Follow @mitchalbom on x.com.