
On a Sunday Afternoon
We met in the parking lot of the country church on either side of which we had lived, my father the pastor and his the
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We met in the parking lot of the country church on either side of which we had lived, my father the pastor and his the
Sometimes in pensive older age, perhaps prompted by an occasion, one reflects anew on the obvious. My wife and I were in Vienna to visit
You may have noticed that since Brene` Brown (The Gifts Of Imperfection) and others, the idea of perfection has taken a bit of a beating,
It probably wasn’t noted from your pulpit either, but this past January 23 was an epoch-ending day in the history of aviation. The last commercial
Now and again, the peaceable kingdom beyond our cottage deck takes a startling turn. I once on a tranquil summer afternoon saw a highly territorial
Consider three pictures, at first seemingly unconnected. It is late winter, and you are a freshman at some college in the Midwest, though home is
Eighteen years ago this week, on a brilliant morning after a night snowstorm, we laid our ninety-three-year-old mother to rest. The hearse managed at one
“Fenway Park, in Boston, is a lyric little bandbox of a ballpark. Everything is painted green and seems in curiously sharp focus, like the inside
It would have been around 1950 — most likely, as now, with snow on the ground — that I wrote my letter to the Canadian
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