The Loneliest Generation
You probably missed this information, but loneliness was recently listed as an epidemic by the US Surgeon General and the World Health Network. That’s how big of a deal this is.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
You probably missed this information, but loneliness was recently listed as an epidemic by the US Surgeon General and the World Health Network. That’s how big of a deal this is.
Rico was going to be euthanized in a few days. He was in his kennel. Unmoving. He wasn’t making a fuss the way hopeful dogs do when visitors come. It was almost like he knew. He was not long for this world. That’s when Rachel happened.
As the sun peeks above the roofline of the Hoover Metropolitan Complex, 2,000 of Birmingham’s most bloodthirsty competitive runners begin to gather at the starting line, forming tight social clusters.
Wake up. Get dressed. Remove phone from nightstand charger, put phone in pocket. Your phone dings. The phone is already notifying you about your highly sophisticated security cameras, which have just picked up movement by the neighborhood cats.
You know what I wish? I wish I could hug everyone in the world. I think I’d start by hugging the young waitress in the restaurant where I had lunch. Earlier that day, she was cussed out by an angry customer. He screamed at her. Called her a bad name
The 71-year-old man cradled a small, juvenile robin in his hand. He fed the bird soggy dog-food pellets with tweezers. The bird was injured badly. But not dead. “Sssshhh,” he said as he fed the bird.
It was January, 1906. The S.S. Valencia was being tossed upon the ice-cold Pacific like a rubber ducky. Two days earlier, the ship had set out from San Francisco to Seattle. It was a bad trip.
Once, there were two men. They were very different guys. They looked different. Had dissimilar backgrounds. They even smelled different.
The TV was showing footage of the latest mass shooting. This shooting happened in a Michigan church. Of all places. An LDS church. Four dead. Eight injured.
She was 94. She came through the meet-and-greet line after my one-man shipwreck. She waited her turn patiently, while I ran my mouth, signed books, and kissed babies.
Our little white van rolls into the Walmart Supercenter in Raleigh, North Carolina. My wife and I step out and stretch our muscles in the parking lot.
“Sandwiches?” my wife says.
“Yep,” I reply.
The rest of the world has gone techno. Even country music has succumbed to the wiles of the “scrolling generation.” But in Bristol, it’s still the 1920s.
It was only an experiment. I wanted to see if I could change America in only one day by being the nicest person on earth for 24 hours.
We did not choose Otis. We let our oldest dog, Thelma Lou pick him out. She was just a puppy. We felt strongly that Thelma deserved to choose her own brother since, after all, she would be the one stuck sniffing his butt for the next 12 years.
Dan Lovette became an usher at the Baptist church on Easter Sunday, March 26th, 1961. He stood at the door shaking hands, passing out bulletins. Nobody knew Dan.
I woke up looking for God. I always look for Him in the mornings. Sometimes, however, He’s hard to find. Sometimes He hides.
When you drink your coffee this morning, DRINK your coffee. Pay attention to EVERY SIP. Really taste it. The Norman Rockwell book that’s been on your coffee table since the Punic Wars so that it’s almost invisible to you. LOOK at it.
There was, suddenly, the beginning of all things. It started with light. And the light was good. And the stars and the planets and the galaxies and the solar systems fell into place and started spinning. And they were good, too.