Wise men are not always great.
I walk around singing. A lot. At home. At work. Getting dressed. Going to bed. I don’t know why there always seems to be a song in my head nor why I must afflict others with it by singing it aloud.
This morning for no particular reason, I woke with Kenny Rogers’ “The Gambler” on my brain.
I was raised under the influence of a couple of generations of Americans who never wasted an empty Folger’s coffee can, a King Edward’s cigar box, or a worn-out suitcase.
This is a tale of grace. It is Sunday morning, and I am driving to a speaking engagement. That is not an unusual thing. Well, it is a little unusual these days but in the totality of my life, it is not. Hundreds of times, I have done that very thing early on a Sunday…
I had a dream… I could remember I had a dream. It was not the noble kind like that of the great Martin Luther King, but it was a dream, and I had it. When I woke, I retraced the steps in my dream because, unlike most of my dreams, I recalled this one in…
I hate Mr. Wonderful. I do not hate Kevin O’Leary. Why would I? How could I? I don’t know him. I have only watched him on Shark Tank and followed him on LinkedIn. I hate Mr. Wonderful, the arrogant, self-absorbed, shock-value-laden persona O’Leary fronts. I cannot believe he is actually that person in person. It…
She’s living proof true love never dies. from Living Proof by Ricky Van Shelton It’s a mystery I can’t explain why,We pay so little heed to the time flying by.It’s a plain simple truth, the surest I’ve knownIt’s a short time here; it’s a long time gone. We’re busy with things that don’t even countNever…
Mony a mickle makes a muckleSaid th’ Scot with a chuckleWhen his kilt a slight snag gotTh’ one 100 Sterling boughtSoon his kilt wis sae threadbareHe hud na coverage down under thereWhaur na Scot wears underwear Ye auld scots saying “Mony a mickle makes a muckle” is an old Scottish saying that means, “Many little…
Take your face out that maskThis is all that I askThat you be, can you beReal to meLet me see them old scars,‘Cause they’re part of who you areAnd you ain’t come this farWithout pain I can see the way you standAnd the tremblin’Of your handsYou are a weakAnd weary manDon’t hide your brokenHeart from…
One of our very first gigs in a small East Texas town was not well promoted. At least, that was our conclusion. After the band loaded in and the curtain opened, we realized there was exactly one paying customer in the audience. We kind of made the best of it playing through the first set,…
Somebody at the hospital confirms the news: a fatal heart attack, the type known as…the widowmaker. look for me there, by Luke Russert (writing about the sudden death of his famous father tim russert.) I just began listening to a new book on Audible™, Look For Me There by Luke Russert, on my drive into…