It’s been called The Devil’s Hour, 3 a.m., supposedly a mocking inversion of the hour Jesus died: 3 p.m. I have my doubts: would that be 3 a.m. Jerusalem time, which would be 8 p.m. my time? 8 p.m. doesn’t carry the mystique for devil-doings like 3 a.m. What I do know is that I …
We caught the early morning flight, 6:15, out of Lincoln, Nebraska. As our plane ascended, enveloped in the darkness, most passengers were sleeping with their window shades pulled down, ignoring the stewardess’s memorized flight instructions. The cabin lights were off. All was hushed. I tried closing my eyes and dozing like everyone else. No success. …
If your goodbye wave pulls on your heartstrings, it’s likely because someone you love is leaving. The feeling is reminiscent of Shakespeare’s famed line, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” I’m not sure when I started the little ritual. Whenever the kids, now grown, leave, I follow them out the door, waving goodbye as they drive …
We had just sat down for dinner on a beach in Destin, Florida. Lori and I were guests of our son, a financial advisor with Edward Jones Investments, and his wife, Kayla. It was a gala event, a gorgeous setting: the evening sun’s soft glow was about to disappear below the water; the tables had …
Consciously trying to walk across the room as softly as a monk on his way to Vigils, I quietly unlock the back door and tiptoe outside, careful not to make a noise that would awaken Lori or our ever-sleeping dogs. The stars at 4:30 a.m. glimmer, greeting me as if to say, “Finally, we thought …