My fellow Georgians who are members of the other party, I am writing to try to convince you to vote Democratic for president in the November election — for the good of the nation, the world, and even the Republican Party. If you had chosen anyone other than Donald Trump, I would not be making this case.
I don’t have to tell you that, as human beings, we make a lot of distinctions regarding one another. We’re constantly categorizing and grouping people in all sorts of ways, using various criteria to make our distinctions: rich, poor, old, young, male, female, white collar, blue collar, etc.
On a Montana morning the scape unfolds like an impressionistic painting, with more shades and hues than a giant box of Crayola. The sun rises gauzy over the horizon. Here under the Big Sky, uncounted sunsets have flamed and died.
Help wanted: Seasoned Republican politician with Washington experience. Must have high energy, conservative credentials and a strong stomach. Job requires working for mercurial boss who provokes needless crises without warning. On paper, you’ll be his deputy, but this chief executive prides himself on ignoring others’ advice. The successful candidate will roll with the punches and subordinate his/her public image to the boss’s whims. Four-year, no-exit contract; once you’re in, you’re in.
Aedes aegypti mosquitoes, which carry the Zika virus, are kind of like dogs. OK, the analogy isn’t perfect. Dogs don’t fly, and they don’t suck blood, and they don’t lay eggs. But like our canine pals, Aedes aegypti started out wild and got domesticated.
Given the need for extraordinary coverage of the massive tragedy that unfolded in Orlando, it’s little wonder if you missed the details out of the United State of Women summit that First Lady Michelle Obama put on in Washington last week.
“Not one gun owner I’ve ever known, when asked if they would give a weapon to a known violent person has ever said yes … not one. But, they expect and demand that a stranger with known violent tendencies have unfettered rights to lethal weapons.”
Throughout our brief history, the central conflict has been between those that envision a government determined by and working for its entire people and those that guarantee the rights of a select few at the expense of all others.
In the winter of 2013, with the February cold bone deep, I sat in one of those cramped and sterile little examining cubicles and listened to the man in the white lab coat ask if I knew what Alzheimer’s was.
Every Sunday in most of our congregations we pray the prayer that Jesus taught his disciples. As I pray, “Thy kingdom come,” I often wonder what it will be like when God’s kingdom comes “on earth as it is in heaven.”
“There have been five major extinction events since complex animals evolved over 500 million years ago. … Right now we are in the midst of the Sixth Extinction, this time caused solely by humanity’s transformation of the ecological landscape” — Elizabeth Kolbert, The Sixth Extinction
I waited until the party primaries were over before writing this, as I felt doing so would provide a greater weight to what I am about to say. The question has burned in me since four of our local office holders switched parties and their announcements found the way to the front page of our newspaper.
When he was down on his luck and homesick in London, Gary P. Nunn sang about “going home with the armadillo” and Texas. Texas is one of my favorite places, but the armadillo remains a stranger to me — one for whom I feel scant kinship. It’s too different, resembling nothing I know.
The Urban League has a big idea. In its 40th anniversary edition of The State of Black America, the longtime civil rights organization is calling for a $1 trillion multiyear investment in urban and black America in a proposal titled, “The Main Street Marshall Plan: Moving from Poverty to Prosperity.”
Like Memorial Day itself, the memory that we owe a debt we cannot pay is too soon forgotten. “Freedom isn’t free” is more than a clever slogan. It is an explanation of why we now enjoy such freedom. It has been purchased at the costly price of precious human lives. Before the day is too far behind, I share this exhortation.
Movements are messy and therefore difficult to manage. Unlike weddings — which are usually planned to cover every detail, including which relatives get confined to social Siberia and what shade of hideous is forced upon the bridesmaids — social revolutions are unpredictable.
From Armed Forces Day to Memorial Day to Military Spouse Appreciation Day, May is a month that honors our veterans in many different ways. But we still have work to do in how we recognize and support their families.
The voice at the other end sounds nothing like the person who called me the day before. His speech is slow and downbeat, not animated and forceful, as it had been. The man who was single-minded in pitching me on this column idea now has almost no affect.
The last among us have a ministry that screams in dry thirst and silent pain. They startle by their presence. They arrest our senses. They attempt to awaken God’s image within us. For God’s beloved, I offer you a servant’s prayer.
I was looking for a teapot. The bride and I have a lovely teakettle that matches our cookware and is quite efficient for boiling water used in an afternoon cup of tea; however, we did not own a teapot in order to enjoy an afternoon refreshment.
It was a good story while it lasted: A 15-year-old boy discovered a lost city by theorizing that a modern star map would correlate with ancient Maya settlements. It seemed to fit the common understanding of the Maya as peaceful stargazers, centuries ahead of their time in astronomical observation and deeply mystical. It only makes sense they’d plan their cities to align with constellations.