Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
When rights come from God, the state is limited. When rights come from government, the state becomes god. That’s the quiet theological dispute beneath all the noise.
I’m going to be honest. In our two decades of marriage, I have never known exactly what our roles are. It’s never been clear to me. I’ve always been confused about hierarchy in our household.
It all started when Sandra was walking home from work. It was 1969. “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” was still in theaters. We landed on the moon. The top-40 hits du jour belonged to the Stones and Neil Diamond.
Meredith is a good Catholic woman. A mother of three. A pillar in her church. So, I can only assume this story about her father is true, since good Catholics never lie.
The wall is painted with black chalkboard paint. So it’s basically a big blackboard, just like the kind you once used for working out algebra problems in front of your whole class.
The Central California coast was covered in dense fog that clung to the world like a wet T-shirt. Morro Bay was gray and cold. The bay lies directly between Los Angeles and San Francisco. You’re looking at about 2,300 acres of Pacific tidal flats, marshes, and beaches, one of the few national estuaries in the …
The Golden Rule is older than you might think. The first reference to The Rule comes from ancient Egypt, roughly 2000 BCE. “Do for one who may do for you, that you may cause him thus to do.”
Part III – Rescuing a Dying Tradition: Rebuilding the American Hunter “If We Don’t Pass It On, We’ll Bury It Beside the Campfire.” The numbers are grim but not terminal. Hunting can be saved—but not by bureaucracy. It will be saved the same way it began: neighbor to neighbor, family to family, and a kid’s …
When I retired in 2017 and finally got settled back in Michigan around 2019, I decided to try something new — teaching. I earned my interim certificate and took a job in what turned out to be one of the poorest counties in the state, measured by home values and income. You could see the poverty in the houses, the roads, and, more than anything, the expectations kids had for themselves.
Each Veterans Day weekend, a gathering of Army friends–bound by service, stories, laughter, and tradition–reminds us that shared rituals and gratitude knit together the history and heart of every community.
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 kerfuffle over former Vice President Kamala Harris Emhoff’s admission that she considered then-Secretary of Transportation Pete Buttigieg as her running mate, but decided against it because he is openly homosexual? Mr Buttigieg admitted to being “surprised” to read that. The divergence comes as their party is grappling with its approach to diversity, as …
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.
You know, this really pisses me off. No, not Vice President J D Vance visiting the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, a place where I have been and found amazing and inspiring, but the utterly asinine comments of (supposedly) good Americans, some of whom even profess to be Christians. I have seen several …
The collapse of the family, as the source for manners, civility and the desire to learn, places an undue demand on our teachers/school systems, and ultimately, the courts/police/corrections systems.
When you walk the sidewalks of Fairhope, Alabama, it’s the trees that impress you most. It’s not the upscale homes, nor the Mayberry-like storefronts, which all give you the impression that you have fallen into a Rockwellian planned urban development. No. It’s the live oaks.
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.
I am staunchly pro-life, yet I chose to end the life of our beloved dog. I found myself nagged by the question: Was I doing the right thing?
My darling bride — of 46 years, 4 months, and 13 days — and I recently returned from our two week vacation in Greece, and we saw many amazing and beautiful places.
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.