We all get it: That amid any lack of good and loving fathers, or their complete absence, we can’t afford to sit around casting blame or doing nothing.
John W. Fountain
At times, I looked in the mirror and did not see me. At times, honestly, I did not care whether I lived or died.
My competitive juices ebb and flow. Some years I’ve thought to myself: “Do you really want to pay the electric bill for burning all those lights?
Thankful for a few dollars in my pocket. For tall cups of dark roast coffee. For the sensation of cool raindrops falling upon me.
My first pet was a dog. I confess that I’ve never lived with a cat. To having never spent more than a few uncomfortable minutes around a furry feline.
We must never accept this scourge as normalcy. Never be resigned to allowing evil to reign or afraid to confront it.
Time and space won’t allow me to even scratch the surface.
Even after all these years, the memory is unsettling. “Al The-Shoeshine Man” meandered through the newsroom, offering reporters and editors a shine.
Let the church cease from treating “outreach” like an hors d’oeuvres. Let it become the main course.