Without grace, our public discourse will continue to suffer.
“Grace,” according to Dictionary.com, has more than one meaning, but all of them are powerful.
Why should we be surprised that at a time when everything is supposed to be about race, from the skin color of certain newspaper editors forced to resign to whether we should capitalize the “B” in “Black,” the most disturbing and consequential att
You might have seen the photo by now. Of all the disturbing images of Wednesday’s insurrection, this one lingers.
What a difference a terrible year makes.
Last year at this time, my wife, Colleen the travel agent, and I were getting ready to take 40 of her clients on a 15-day cruise out of Dubai to India and back.
I spent Monday nights in the fall of 1975 breathlessly watching my favorite TV show. And I do mean breathlessly.
My father had terminal lung cancer.
My new puppy entered the world on Christmas and he’s already bringing incredible joy into my family — just as many dogs, cats and other bundles of joy are doing for millions during these unusual times.
Ok, let’s get the obvious out of the way.
The older I get, the more I am turning into my father.
You see, the world makes less sense to me every day. My fellow man puzzles me more every day.
Civil rights legislation always has its genesis in humanitarian principles: Protecting the weak, advocating for the voiceless, providing opportunities for the disenfranchised.