My great-grandfather, Reverend A.F. Whitlock, a retired Baptist minister, would dress in a white shirt and tie well into his nineties. “I never know when I may be needed, he would say. Great-Grandad loved the Bible. “As many times as I’ve read it,” he said to me more than once, “I always find something new …
“Oh, I remember those tennis shoes I’m wearing in that picture. I begged you and Mom to get them for me.” David Jr. was looking through old photos while he and his family were home with us for Christmas. I had been rummaging through photo albums the week before, cleaning them out and organizing them. …
For many, it’s that time of year when our best intentions shift into overdrive as we make all those New Year’s resolutions, hoping to cruise through the year accomplishing them all. And too often, we end up disappointed again. That’s because resolutions tend to become ends in themselves, and when that happens, they overload our …
That famous first line of Clement Moore’s poem—a line so familiar that it has replaced the original title, “A Visit from St. Nicolas,” in the popular imagination — is all about the surprise visit of Santa Claus. At the risk of mixing the visit of St. Nick with the real reason for Christmas, the birth …
“C’mon over here and lookie,” I said, scooping up my three-year-old granddaughter, Noah Kate, in my arms and walking to the bookcases in our living room. “Wanna see Santa Claus?” Clinging to me, she studies the black-and-white photo, older than the years she can imagine. “That’s me, your PopPop,” I explain, placing my index finger …