I realize that I hear the same voices – and you’ll hear them too. You’re too old or too young. That you’re not good looking enough or smart enough. I wish someone would have told me about these voices when I was young, Read more
I realize that I hear the same voices – and you’ll hear them too. You’re too old or too young. That you’re not good looking enough or smart enough. I wish someone would have told me about these voices when I was young, Read more
I recently read a list of the best-selling toys of time. There were familiar ones from my own past including the Hula Hoop, the View Master, the Slinky, the Pet Rock, Mr. Potato Head, Cabbage Patch Dolls, Gameboys, Barbie, and Nerf balls. But in the end, it comes down to simple toys that transcend time. Read more
Transitions are hard. We spend years preparing our children to leave -- and then hold on when they actually do. And as parents we go from being intelligent, to dumb, to wise. Growing up is hard on kids, but growing up is harder on parents. Read more
Sometimes the best summers are the ones lived on the fly -- with simple little trips, ice tea in the backyard, and a free concert on the town square. Read more
I've lost friends just because I didn't pay attention. I lost a marriage because I let the fire burn out. I lost drive in a job because there wasn't anything new to rev my engines. It can be that way with writing, or a hobby, school plans, or career goals. There has to be a way to to throw on another log, and then stand back in heat. Read more
(From today’s post over at The High Calling. Won’t you join the conversation over there?) As a college-bound teenager, I was determined to make as much money as possible during summers. And my dad – a roofer – needed the help. There were perks — free transportation in Dad’s 52 Chevy, a lunch packed by mom, and a paycheck that didn’t bounce. Reality is, I wasn’t a good roofer. My lines were often crooked – which if left uncorrected would ruin the... Read more
(A repost of an article I wrote that was published in The Story Jar. A tribute to my mom, who now has all the flowers she can handle) Flowers. Mom has always had a passion for flowers. She believed they could brighten any drab room, liven any conversation, and change any dour mood. For 20 years, she took this vision earnestly each Sunday at the First Baptist Church. As the flower coordinator, she turned the plain wood altar at the... Read more
So it’s finally time to come clean. I worked at a restaurant once as a teenager. It was the Nugget, on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe. It was a small casino with a few 21 tables, a row of slots, and lots of bleary-eyed people pulling nickle slot machines. The back of the casino had a small resturant where we served $2.99 stacks of pancakes and $7.99 prime rib. It was my first real job as I bussed tables,... Read more
I remember coming home from work and there was my son, lying on his stomach in the living room. He was surrounded by crayons and pieces of paper. “What are you doing, son?” “I’m working,” he said resolutely, his tongue pushed toward his cheek with a look of intensity that meant business. “Really hard.” 20 minutes later he produced an elaborately colored picture. “I used every crayon,” he announced. “Do you like it?” “Of course I do,” I said, surveying... Read more
Laura Wellington was half a mile away from finishing when the bombs went off. The Boston Marathon came to a screeching, horrifying halt. She had run 25 and 1/2 miles for nothing. Weeping, she sat on the curb in dismay, overwhelmed with emotion for those who lost their lives, the injured, and her own empty efforts. Then, out of nowhere, a stranger walked up to her and handed over his medal. He had already finished before the explosions and was escaping the... Read more
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