My wife's doomsday plans always begin with the basement sinks.
One Sunday at a church I was visiting in New England, the time had come in the worship service for "Joys and Concerns."
At my own popularity peak, most of my friendships were not mutual but transactional, based on what I could do for other people.
King Amaziah had a stressful job.
"You can always pray," Khaled said as he drove from Amman to Petra. "Even if a person can't fast, do Hajj or give charity, they can always pray."
One particular moment from math class — four decades ago, mind you — still remains vivid.
Have you had a huge break-through? Has your church cast off paralyzing fears? Have you gotten clean and sober? A big victory at the ballot box? The job you always wanted?
Who is in charge of great awakenings?
Quinn G. Caldwell
Fifty-five years ago today transpired what, depending on your point of view, was either a heroic stand against the forces of social decay, or an appalling attempt to block the forces of progress.
One of my favorite desserts is my wife Linda's Ice Cream Sandwich Dessert.