Let me tell you a story: Fifteen years ago, I was in line at a grocery store, behind two Hispanic men checking out. The clerk—a

Could be an early 20th century shot from a lot of places on the map. There’s a hill up the street, but the place looks

After just about forty years of teaching students from all over the continent, I came to believe, grudgingly, that no geographic group adored their “homeland”

I didn’t know him–couldn’t have. He was killed four years before I was born. For years I wouldn’t have known his story any more fully

Last night I couldn’t help thinking of an old story told to me long, long ago by an organist–the organist, the very one who’d been asked

Job’s friends had his health in mind, but none of them, nor their arguments, could satisfy the emptiness in his soul. He’d lost everything, his

The only means of getting man and woman, beast and wagon across the rain-swollen Niobrara River was by rope, hand over hand. Dozens of oxen

Your great-grandpa wasn’t sure where he was Sunday, but, as you know, that’s not unusual. For some reason, he was expecting a trip to the

“Why are they called Canada geese?” our third-grade grandson asked us last week. It seems no one really knows; after all, they show up in