About Us
We were newlyweds, living in a grungy apartment. Each morning, I would wake before her. I would pass my morning hours writing poetry on a yellow legal pad, sipping coffee.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
We were newlyweds, living in a grungy apartment. Each morning, I would wake before her. I would pass my morning hours writing poetry on a yellow legal pad, sipping coffee.
Remember the Yugo? That tiny, boxy, bargain-bin miracle that proudly declared, “Yes, I’m new, but no, I won’t last the winter”? For a brief, shining, oil-leaking moment in the mid-1980s, America fell in love with the world’s cheapest new car.
I sort of raised myself. My dad died when I was a kid. He died by suicide, shortly after he’d been released from county lockup on bail. His death was dramatic. It made the papers. On his final night, he almost took my mother to the grave with him.
Natalie Grabow, of Mountain Lakes, New Jersey, has just become the oldest woman to finish the Ironman World Championship Triathlon. Amazingly, Natalie only learned how to swim around age 60. Today, Natalie is 80 years old.
It was late. I pulled into the campus after seven o’clock to attend my last class of the semester. My last college class. Ever. It was a night class. In America, most self-respecting people my age were finishing supper, settling down to watch “Wheel of Fortune.” But I was in school. I had been attending …
What if our souls were like butterflies? Yours and mine. Two butterflies. You and me. Soul mates. And just like butterflies, we were a little bit different from each other? Each with different colors. Different symmetrically patterned wings. Uniquely shaped and sized.
Sean takes some time out to answer reader questions. As in anywhere else in life, don;t ask a question about which you’re not prepared to recieve all possible answers.
Splendiferous Oratory May Not Be Enough To Rule The Day
Nobody could explain how it happened. But one day, Willy sort of lost his mind. Namely, because Willy walked into the kitchen and declared that he was a chicken. Not a proverbial chicken, mind you. But literal poultry. The kind that go bawk-bawk, cock-a-doodle-doo, and all such manner of clucking.
The year is 1941. The place is Auschwitz. His official name is Prisoner Number 16670. But his real name is Max. Max isn’t old, but he looks ancient. Prison camp will do that to a man. He is here because he was caught sheltering 3,000 Polish refugees—half of whom were Jews.
When Beliefs And Opinions Get Confused With Convictions, Dialogue and Compromise Become Impossible
The following is a true story. She was a kid. Maybe 5 years old. Her mom was driving, and she was in the passenger seat. They saw the older homeless man standing at the intersection, just like every day.
Abel Rodriguez had no car. He’s a janitor at Community High School in Collin County, near Dallas. Abel is nice. Not a big guy. Easy going, mostly quiet. Friendly. He deals with teenagers all day. He cleans spills from the floor.
I’ve spent this entire morning reading letters. They are stories sent to me from people who have seen things bigger than themselves.
His name is Callum. He is a Labrador. He is brown. He has a little white developing around his snout. All the best dogs have white on their snouts.
Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a long time, but technically, that’s not my fault. You probably don’t remember this, but you quit listening to your inner voice just as soon as you hit the fourth stage of puberty.
I remember who I was as I walked the ancient trail. I remember those 40 days. Living out of a backpack. Hardly any possessions. Two T-shirts. One pair of boots. I had a fiddle on my back.
The main reason I’m writing is because the world is going to go nuts someday. And I mean totally, flipping nuts. I can’t even describe the level of nuttiness you’re about to experience.
Calhoun, Georgia. An autumn evening. I was supposed to be putting on a show with my band The Grand Ole Optimists. But that wasn’t happening. I was unable to perform because of a serious gas problem.
The American Library Association is inflaming a nothing burger. You want to read a “banned” book, nothing is stopping you.