Q&A

Aug 13, 2012 by

Fact: Baby seagulls are gray. They are loud, fluffy and, at times, so big and near adult-size that the only thing differentiating them from adults is their color, gray. Sunday morning, at the beginning of a walk talk with my love, we came across two huge ones milling about on the rocks jutting out of the ocean. “Look,” I say, “those are baby seagulls!” “Are you sure?” Marc asks. “They don’t look ‘baby’ to me. I can’t imagine them any bigger.” “Yeah . . . I think so.” Suddenly, looking at their size and not their color, I second guess myself. Maybe I’m wrong about that. “I guess they are pretty big, though.” We continued down the waterfront trail, doing what we always do during our times together, walking and soaking in the sun....

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A Moment of Silence

Jul 21, 2012 by

The Dark Knight Rises . . . as do our prayers for the victims of the senseless shootings in Aurora.  I hope healing rises too . . . eventually. Drawing by Vincent Conard, my...

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The Faith of My Father

Jun 26, 2012 by

Yesterday was a hard day.  It just was.  In addition to worrying over Grandma and the health and cognition slowing ebbing from her 93-year-old body and mind, my heart quaked on behalf of my parents and the health challenges they are facing head on.  My father, diabetic and with a wound that is not healing, went in for a standard procedure to create blood flow to his legs that are as dry as a desert.  As he was prepped for the surgery, his doctor determined his veins were too far collapsed and that he needed another, more involved surgery instead to have a chance at creating a healthy circulation in his lower limbs.  I learned all of this over the phone and through the tearful confession from my mom, my sweet Billie Jean. I...

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Charis: First Three Chapters

Jun 2, 2012 by

SUNDAY NIGHT Great deeds are usually wrought at great risks. —HERODOTUS CHAPTER 1 A BLACKER BLACK, A WARMER WARM HAD MR. WARD BEEN PAYING closer attention when he walked into Storage Room 19, he might have noticed that the warm was just a little bit warmer and the black was just a little bit blacker than usual. That he didn’t notice those small yet horribly significant details was unusual. The exactly matched blue of his tie, belt, and his shoes and socks betrayed his love for details, details, details; a talent that served him well as museum curator. It was his appreciation for the particulars that brought him to the storage room in the first place. He couldn’t understand how he had missed such an obvious mistake on the inventory sheet, and for such...

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