The following passage was written not about a man or a woman in love, nor was it written about the mechanism of worship in the human heart, in spite of how precise an image it makes. It was written about a dog.
Continue reading...Monday, April 27, 2009
I walked in, looked around and realized quickly that I was in a unique place. In every direction there was a sea of tamed hair, sleek shirts, jeans with the wallet square worn in, and tour shoes. I was at the GMA’s in the Renaissance hotel lobby, downtown Nashville. Everyone was bustling around, catching up [...]
Continue reading...Tuesday, March 17, 2009
As the dog approached the fence, which he did slowly, circumspectly, without thinking about what I was doing I reached in to pet the dog. Big mistake. And the immediate, “stupid, stupid, stupid” detonating in my head. I still have the scar on my right index finger as a reminder.
Continue reading...Monday, January 26, 2009
With pride we have used phrases like “Melting Pot” to describe her. Give me your tired your poor . . . and yet, all the stew has rendered for generations is the same white, Anglo-Saxon, Protestant male.
Continue reading...Friday, December 5, 2008
It is no less than a mirror before me. I see myself with all the years removed, all the spoils of time. But does that make him a hero, that he is but an altered version of myself, or that my pride is laid so evident upon him? No, it doesn’t. I would be guilty of a conspicuous vanity. But, if a hero is a person who reflects what is fine in you, who may just champion your lost hopes, he is all that. If a hero is someone who believes the best of you and for you, even when you do not, if a hero is one who is not afraid to call up the best that is within you, he is all of that as well. But there is more.
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Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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