We gathered for Thanksgiving on a warm autumn afternoon out in the country. A steady breeze scattered leaves across the back patio and down the hill to the pasture where a small herd of cows grazed. My Beautiful Mystery Companion and I were lawfully wed, as the term goes, at the bottom of that hill nearly eight years ago. So it is a special place.
After indulging in a typical feast of over-abundance, some of us sat outside around the pool. Our nephew Connor, now 13, mentioned that he had bought his portable chess set — a compact affair with magnetic pieces. Connor over the past few years...
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Every morning, if I get up before my Beautiful Mystery Companion rises, I am greeted by a quartet of critters. Tater, an orange-and white galumph of a cat weighing in at close to 20 pounds, is perched at the top of the stairs, waiting for me to open the door. It stays closed during the night to keep critters downstairs. Otherwise, meowing and whimpering could commence about 4 a.m.
Once I open the door, Tater bounds down the stairs, the sound echoing off the wooden steps like a small pony in full gallop. His brother, Tot, and the two dogs, Sam and Rosie, join Tater at the foot of the stairs....
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Let us be lovers, we'll marry our fortunes together
I've got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies
And we walked off to look for America
— “America,” by Simon and Garfunkel 1968
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I have been reading tomes about America lately. Recently I finished These Truths, Jill Lepore’s brilliant and sweeping history of this country released this fall. Lepore accomplishes what most would consider a nearly impossible task — telling this country’s history in a single, if hefty, volume.
Her account begins in 1492 and ends with the election...
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Seven years ago today, Cody Norris was killed while on patrol in Afghanistan for Operation Enduring Freedom. He had joined the Army at 19 and died under enemy small-arms fire in Kandahar province. Cody was my sister-in-law’s nephew. He grew up in the Houston area but loved spending time in East Texas. We met a few times at holiday gatherings. He had followed his older brother, who graduated from West Point, into the military. Hundreds of people lined up for the funeral procession, to honor this young man who paid the ultimate sacrifice. The sanctuary was overflowing. Medals were presented to his parents....
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Over the course of my career as a newspaper editor and publisher, I was called upon to sit in a dunking booth a few times, for one charitable cause or another. Being dunked is not the most pleasant of experiences. The water is invariably cold since the tub was likely just filled out of a water hose, and the sun has not had a chance to warm it. Then, there is the sudden shock of being plunged into the water, when someone bent on vengeance and flush with cash hits the target. Even though one knows it’s coming, the sudden descent into cold water stuns the system. At least it did mine.
I helped...
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While in San Antonio recently, we attended a service at Oak Hills Church and heard Max Lucado deliver a sermon. Lucado is a well-known Christian author with several dozen published books. He delivered a thoughtful sermon based on the accou
nt, in the Gospel of John, of the blind man that Jesus healed. Jesus did so by spitting on the ground and creating a daub of mud, which he spread across the blind man’s eyes. Then Jesus instructed him to walk to Siloam and wash, after which he could see. Though Lucado did not mention it, that is where the term, “Here’s mud in your eye” evolved.
Lucado...
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Current events are proving to be a bit overwhelming these days, at least for me. We are beset with tragedy, corruption and disasters. Even for a news junkie like me, someone who has spent his life following — and reporting, on a modest scale — what is happening in the world, there are days I simply can’t listen any more to NPR news, or read The New York Times or Washington Post online. That is rare, since it is so ingrained in me, but it happens. Thank goodness for Spotify and iTunes.
At least it is October and there is baseball. My beloved Boston Red Sox beat Houston with four straight...
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I began producing stories for Red River Radio a month or so ago. I was asked to help them expand their news coverage with piece every week or so. Sure, I said. It pays a modest amount, being public radio and all, but I’m happy to help. For nearly six years, I have contributed weekly commentaries gratis. Producing a news story is different. I ensconce my self in the small closet in my study, which is banked with file cabinets and boxes of unsold books, which doubles as a recording studio.
(By the way, Christmas is coming, and a copy of “Yours Faithfully, J.A.: The Life and Writings of H.B....
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A high-school classmate and fellow CrossFit fanatic mentioned several months ago that he had signed up for a mail-order genetic testing kit and had just received the results. He’s a well-respected doctor in town, so it caught my attention that he was willing to fork out $199 for the test. This fellow is not likely to spend money on scientifically dubious endeavors. His test was conducted by 23andMe, one of three companies out there catering to consumers. It is the least expensive by far, and uses SNP genotype testing, which examines the spelling variations in DNA.
The test covers both ancestral...
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This is Banned Books Week, launched in 1982 to call attention to attempts to keep certain books out of circulation. At the Margaret Estes Library on the LeTourneau University campus, where I work part-time weeknights as a reference assistant, the student worker in charge of promotions and social media put together a compelling exhibit to note the week. Construction-paper flames and the word “BANNED” in fiery red lettering peeped out of books around the library. A banner proclaiming Banned Books Week hung from the ceiling. Lots of students asked what it was all about, which was the intent of the exhibit.
Students...
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