How Amazon Stole Christmas
The Christmas season was the busiest time of year for delivery-persons. Drivers saw a major uptick in workload. This did nothing to improve John’s sunny disposition.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
The Christmas season was the busiest time of year for delivery-persons. Drivers saw a major uptick in workload. This did nothing to improve John’s sunny disposition.
Letters from the children of Christmas Past. RHINELANDER, WI—1933. Dear Santa Claus, I am sorry I haven’t wrote before but my pet dog got his leg broke and I thought we would hafta have him killed but he will get well. …I am nine years old and bring me, dear old Santa, what you think …
We arrived at the Christmas tree lot after dark. My wife and I walked the long aisles of pinery, scrutinizing each tree as though it were asking for our kid’s hand in marriage.
It was Christmas Eve. Pa arrived back at the cabin in the wagon. His buckboard was loaded with crates and supplies. It was snowing heavily in the Appalachians that night.
This year, let’s slow down amid the frenzy of the Christmas season, seek the quiet light of God’s presence, and rediscover the peace and wonder of Christ’s birth.
Wake up early. Still dark outside. It is 30-odd degrees on Lake Martin and I can’t feel my unmentionables.
The 1940s cabin is poorly insulated. You could store Ben & Jerry’s products in the living room.
Bad ass Don Pedro Menéndez de Avilés arrives in Florida for Thanksgiving in 1565. One of my ancestors landed at Plymouth Rock. He signed the Mayflower Compact. When I commemorate their first thanksgiving in 1621, some Virginian says, oh, it wasn’t the first because there was one in Jamestown, Virginia, 14 years earlier. But neither …
The old woman felt weird, not cooking this year. But she’d given up cooking Thanksgiving ever since the stroke paralyzed half of her body and forced her into an assisted living home.
“It is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favors.” ~ President George Washington
the real Thanksgiving — the one we refuse to talk about — looked nothing like a Hallmark card. It was less a celebration of abundance and more a collective sigh of relief that they weren’t dead yet.
We are most thankful the shutdown Finally went through the House, Followed with Donnie’s non-AutoPen; Shumer sure was a louse. The Republicans showed power So that the ship did not sink; Now we move on, After the Democrats did blink. But that’s not all The Don secured; An enema world despots did need …
Even in the holiday and seasonal blues, God offers comfort, practical hope, and the steady promise of His unfailing presence.
Let’s be honest: this season is a pressure cooker disguised with twinkly lights. Credit cards get maxed out, travel is miserable, food is overpriced, and somehow every family expects you to teleport between states so you can sit at a table with your cousin who still thinks you “changed after high school.”
On your mark, get set, GO! But before the holiday frenzy gets cranked up, let’s pause to give thanks.
Today is Veterans Day. Given that only 6 percent of the people of this nation have ever put on a uniform–including those currently serving–I am not sure many Americans have any idea why Veterans Day is a holiday.
When I was sixteen, I didn’t get a car or anything like that. My grandmother gave me my late grandfather’s union card. She bequeathed me the legacy of the working man.
Nobody understood how to navigate the endless battle to control what and how we think, better than COL James N. “Nick” Rowe, who spent five years as a prisoner of the Viet Cong.
Tomorrow is the real No Kings Day. Next year, we will mark the 250th anniversary of the nation.
It has been a few years now, but this Friday, we will once again be celebrating a Happy Fourth of July
Washington D.C. It was the height of summer. Early July. I was in town for a book event, to make a speech. I had time to kill, so I went to the National Mall. The National Mall is “America’s Front Yard.” There are thousands of tourists, and even more screaming babies.