Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
Christmas supper. The little girl beside me ate ferociously as though she had not eaten in 13 years when in fact she had already eaten two breakfasts, one Christmas lunch, half a bag of tortilla chips, a quarter of a cheese log, and various holiday snacks which all featured onion dip as a main ingredient.
It’s almost Christmas. Stop rushing. Take a deep breath. Allow yourself to slow down and remember what the season is about.
Thank you. That is the purpose of this column. I want to say “thanks.” I don’t know you, but I believe in the good you do.
On Christmas night in 2010, in Iraq our base came under heavy attack from insurgents who launched 92 rockets, reportedly of Iranian origin dating back to the 1970s.
Christmas is a time for memories. I have two childhood memories that have stayed with me all of my “x” number of years, and they are as clear as if they happened a couple of years ago instead of six decades ago.
Christmas Eve. Southeastern Kansas. The middle of nowhere. Kansas is one of those places that gets a bad rap. People speak of Kansas like it’s Death Valley, or the hindparts of Mars.
The Grinch was right! Christmas doesn’t come from a store. It comes from focusing on the reason that we celebrate.
I remember the day we got married. I was a bundle of nerves. I didn’t know what to do with myself. So I just drove around town in my car.
The hospital room was decorated for Christmas. The young man was sitting in his bed, wired up to a horde of machines. The kid was watching something on the television mounted on the wall. Barely able to keep his eyes open. He was 8.
Winter. The year is 1949. The war has been over for a while, but it’s still fresh on everyone’s minds. Which is why people are having babies like crazy. War does that to people.
I am not sure whether you understand English, but I’d like to think you do. I’d like to think that you know exactly what I’m saying to you. I’d like to think I speak fluent dog.
The popular Christmas song, O Holy Night, was once declared “unfit for church services” in France! It was later embraced by the American abolitionist movement and it continues to be one of the best-loved songs of the season.
Happy Sunday! The thought for today; We are all living on a pale blue dot, a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.
It’s hard to choose my favorite Christmas movie. Each time I try to pick one, I’m afraid I’ll shoot my eye out.
I ran to the Christmas tree like a squirrel on illegal stimulants. Our tree was pitiful. Charlie Brown had nothing on us.
Charlie had been inside for 22 years. Nobody ever came to visit at Christmas. Never. Not even once. Sometimes he wondered if anyone remembered him.
Sean takes an unexpected trip and discovers that there is indeed a real life Santa Clause
So much of the holiday season is spent in a hurry as we do our level best to create perfect Christmas memories. This year, let’s try to simplify the Christmas trappings and concentrate on the real meaning of the season.
