Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight
— Warren Zevon
I have been playing a lot of Warren Zevon on Spotify lately while sheltering in our home and researching what I hope will be a book someday. The late singer-songwriter, author of such classics as “Werewolves of London” and “Lawyers, Guns and Money,” died of mesothelioma in 2003 at the too-young age of 56. He was revered by fellow songwriters like Jackson Browne — who helped him secure his first record contract...
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The tornado sirens began blaring early Easter morning, as nearly ceaseless peels of thunder sent the dogs scurrying to hide beneath our feet. We still had power, so I checked the weather radar online. I then walked around, peering out the large picture windows that are the main architectural feature of our house. That’s what East Texas men do when the tornado siren sounds: stare out the window looking for the funnel cloud. Of course, if I actually saw one, it would be too late to do much about it.
Meanwhile, my Beautiful Mystery Companion, who had already been up a couple of hours, was checking...
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Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust.”
Surely he will save you
from the fowler’s snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
— Psalm 91: 1-6
A friend of more...
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As I sat in my study the other day in front of the computer screen, reading a digitized issue of the San Augustine Red-Lander from 1841, I heard a loud vehicle outside. At first I thought it was a UPS or FedEx truck. We live at the end of a cul-de-sac, so they pass by often these days making their rounds, as more of us try to stay out of stores and order online. I looked out the window and saw it wasn’t a delivery truck but rather the city’s street sweeper, making its rounds, picking up the oak clusters and pine tree noodles that carpet the pavement.
The driver made a couple of rounds and soon...
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