writing
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No honor is lostin accepting defeat. What kind of person endures such misery,then plans to return a few days later? Everyone has something that grounds them: a rocker on the front porch,a window overlooking the garden,a shelf of Kerouac and Hemingway. His solace is the inner gorge. Breaking camp before dawn,he trots to the trailhead.…
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This story is not my own.My friend’s uncle’s brother-in-law’s cousintold my friend, and they told methis story that I am telling you.So I can’t vouch foraccuracy or veracity,but I can say that,in my humble opinion, it isone of the better stories I’ve heardin the last few years.Once upon a time—no.Long ago and far away—no.It was…
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Mom and Dad think he is shy—timid, antisocial, perhaps a bit retarded.It never happens when it’s justGrandpa, the uncles, and Auntie Jay.Not when there is deliberate, meaningful discussion.Not when there is civilized conversation.Not when there are pauses between sentences,and even a few occasional contemplative silences.Later, when the rest of the crowd arrives—the energetic ones, the…
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Why are there so many expressionsin the English language about balancing vulnerability and protection?How do I trust the faithfulness of otherswhile at the same time avoiding deception?I sit watching the long shadows of the early morning lightwhile reflecting on the eventsof last night.“A burnt child dreads the fire.”Wakened from peaceful slumberby the incessant screaming of…
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In the sun-baked Arizona desert,under earth’s blistering sun,a mother journeys forthwith her two children by her side.Courage is forged into her core.Her heart is worn,like old leather.The girl, with eyesbright like stars,the boy, brave yet quaking,bothbearing the burden of hunger,Thirsta relentless shadow at their heels.They have crossed a threshold,not merely of land, but of hope.Promise…