It was time to start thinking about Christmas gifts again. I wasn’t very proud of the way I’d handled the whole thing the year before.
Maybe inspiration isn’t the word most often associated with Christmas, but it’s the one on my mind this year. I’m talking about that humbling but empowering spiritual feeling that to me is practically synonymous with Christmas.
Now I’ll be famous. ” These are among the last words written by the young man who killed himself after having murdered eight people and injured five others when he fired a rifle in an Omaha, Neb.
It’s Christmas time again, and the air is thick with commercialism. Each year the Yuletide spirit comes earlier and the demands increase.
One summer, during the early years of my life as a college student, I went abroad to live in England for two months. I was very happy to have the opportunity to travel, but at the beginning of my stay there I found it difficult to be separated from the affection and guidance of my family and friends who were back in France.
I’ve never known a veteran who committed suicide, but I’ve witnessed the suffering of some soldiers who have returned from war. Many in my parents’ generation fought in World War II.
Employee pension plans evaporate. Social programs fall increasingly short.
One bright October morning about three years ago, I was on the back of a mule, descending down a steep trail in the Grand Canyon in Arizona. What had begun as a wonderful adventure with friends had quickly become an exercise in challenging fear.
This morning I climbed up a knoll on the eastern edge of our property, one of three sides that adjoin the national forest. Up there the view expands for miles.
When I was growing up I had a difficult time maintaining any real interest in school. However, the one subject that always interested me was mathematics.