It’s A Sin To Kill A Mockingbird
It’s raining hard. Thundering loudly. Like the world is falling apart. And yet there is a mockingbird outside my window. The bird is unfazed by the downpour.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
It’s raining hard. Thundering loudly. Like the world is falling apart. And yet there is a mockingbird outside my window. The bird is unfazed by the downpour.
There’s a certain kind of battlefield respect that doesn’t need a movie trailer, a podcast, or a camouflage beard oil sponsor. It’s quiet. It’s ancient. It’s earned. And it belongs to the rifle marksman—the one who can hit what needs to be hit, when it needs to be hit, without turning the entire valley into a fireworks show.
The old preacher sipped his thermos of coffee, holding a fishing rod in the other hand. He asked what I wanted most in this life. I stared at the lake surface and told him I wanted peace. I was young, I came from a broken home. Peace was all I wanted.
So…Let me tell you about Fuzzy.
A gray kitten my wife tried to adopt from the local animal shelter. My wife went in there like a normal, kind human being. She saw a little kitten and instantly fell in love—because that’s what happens when a decent person meets a tiny creature with big eyes and zero survival skills.
Don’t shoot the messenger. But in America, one third of children have never handwritten a letter. And it’s not just kids. Nearly 40 percent of adult Americans haven’t written a letter in the last five years, while 43 percent of Millenials have never sent one in their lifetime.
His dad was murdered. Just outside Tulsa. You probably never heard about it. It was an average winter night out in the country. No snow. Cold as you-know-what. Harry Aurandt and his buddy, Ike, had been rabbit hunting….then…
My truck cab was filled with three barking dogs and one idiot. The dogs were in the backseat. The idiot was behind the wheel.
“Sit down!” the idiot kept saying.
“My daughter’s inside shopping,” the old woman tells me. “You’d better not talk to me. Whenever my daughter sees me talking to strangers, she always says ‘Mama, quit bothering the man!’”
New research reports that, thanks to smartphones, kids are smarter today than their ancestors ever were. “Technology,” the article said, “is expanding the American IQ.”
In light of all the negative headlines, civil unrest, and the international political upheavals, I know many of you are anxious to know what I did for National Kiss a Ginger Day. Or maybe you missed this particular holiday.
When you’re having a bad day, think of her. She was born in Agawam, Massachusetts. One year after the Civil War. The daughter of Irish immigrants.
The annual World Happiness Report recently ranked the happiest countries in the world. The U.S. dropped to number 24, its lowest position in the report’s history.
Historians, political scientists, and philosophers alike often look at revolutions and ask the question “Was it a simple coup d’etat, or a real popular revolution? And if a real popular revolution, just how ‘popular’ was it, really?”
Help us to love one another. Help us to find beauty in each fellow human being. Beauty within each soul who crosses our path today. Teach us to find beauty in our enemies.
The 20-year-old girl is sleeping when we enter her hospital room. But her mom tells us to come in anyway. I’m carrying my fiddle case. My friend Bobby is carrying his banjo.
Chuck Cordak “Life’s too short for weak pours, weak swings, or leaders who confuse comfort with competence.” (Add weak coffee to that list—and FAFO to the list of things you don’t test.)
Were he alive today, there is little doubt that Minnesota Fats would be amazed and perhaps a bit envious of the $9 billion hustle currently in progress in his namesake, Minnesota—especially given the fact that the mainstream media seems content to ignore it entirely.
The old timers in my childhood used a word I never understood. The word was “Providence.” The old timers couldn’t give me an exact definition of this word. Probably because it had more than two syllables.
There were 26 of them, altogether. High-school kids. Not one cellphone among them. Neither were there TVs, airpods, gaming devices, or tablets. No tech at all.
It was a party.
In the elevator is a little boy and his mother. They are both carrying overnight bags. Mom looks like she hasn’t slept in eight years. The boy looks worried. He’s so serious. “Mom?” the boy asks. “Do you think Caleb’s surgery worked?”