“You are what you repeatedly drive.” ~ Aristotle “You don’t have to do this,” Karin said. She held her keys out, and I gave her mine. “It’s my turn, I guess.” “OK, but I know you don’t like my van.” That… Continue Reading
Every December, my wife and I clash on the most serious question of our time. Is fruitcake food or something far more sinister? My wife belongs to a not-so-secret society that LIKES fruitcake. I find this troubling. To me, the… Continue Reading
“A friend is a gift you give yourself” Robert Louis Stevenson Mom used to say that, if you want to know who you’re friends are, get into trouble and see who sticks. When I was in grade school, I found… Continue Reading
From the day I could walk, I’ve been on the go. My poor mother spent most of her time chasing me down, trying to make me stand still. She fought a losing battle. No sooner would she corner me, than… Continue Reading
Now you know you’re underpaid but the boss says you ain’t He speeds up the work ’til you’re ’bout to faint You may be down and out, but you ain’t beaten You can pass out a leaflet and call a… Continue Reading
This column is dedicated to my brother-in-law, Keith, who passed on this week. He was, without a doubt, one of the brightest, funniest, and most creative men I’ve ever met. Even though he’s gone, the stories of his exploits will… Continue Reading
…When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white… Continue Reading
When I was a kid, mother warned me about strangers. “It’s OK to talk to them so long as I’m around,” she’d say. “But keep your eyes open.” She wasn’t unfriendly, just wary. She erred on the side of caution,… Continue Reading
“I’ll have grounds More relative than this—the play’s the thing Wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the King.” Hamlet Saturday I sat outdoors in the dark with hundreds of strangers and watched a 12-year-old boy get his fondest wish.… Continue Reading
The first Texan I ever met was my mother. Mom grew up in Corpus Christi, married young and then fled the state. In the next 20 years, she and my Dad—a Californian—returned three times to visit her parents. Two of… Continue Reading
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