America is becoming bloodthirsty. Half of our electorate may vote against hawkish Republicans, but film viewing numbers and book sales suggest that across the electorate Americans vote for violence with their remotes and downloads.
Dreamers are survivors and are stronger than their struggles. History already proves this to be true.
When Hee Haw's Gordie Tapp died recently, we lost an entertainment icon. His straw-hat TV character — Cousin Clem — was a mainstay in fictitious Kornfield County. "Where oh where are you tonight?" was his hallmark scene.
Our country has voices, and at this year's National Prayer Breakfast one rose to an epic volume. Chaplain of the United States Senate, retired Rear Admiral Dr. Barry Black, left the podium while a spontaneous and thunderous crowd recognized a new piece of our oral history.
The events surrounding Michael Brown's death in Ferguson, Missouri, and Darren Wilson's plight and resignation, constantly pound reminders of Joe Martin's trial in to my head. Because I was one of the jurors in the Joe Martin trial, it's my visceral connection to one of democracy's primary questions, "What is justice?"
While sitting in his bed at Riley Children's Hospital, our college-aged son Googled "leukemia," trying to understand his recent diagnosis. Suddenly he read aloud to his friends, "It says here that two general symptoms of leukemia are anemia and being grumpy." Then he looked up, "Oh no! I think all of you have leukemia!" His sense of humor showed through again when a friend handed him a stuffed lion, and Nick immediately named it "Luke E. Mia."
The Radio broadcast was about to begin but the host wasn't in the room. It was a live recording for "The Bible Answer Man," among the most popular Christian stations in North America, and the only man in the room was I. It wasn't my first rodeo, but suddenly I felt more like this would be "The Bible Question Man."
The schoolboy next to me had cool clothes and perfect Brylcreem hair; he was our Mitt Romney. My wardrobe made people stare; generations of alterations on hand-me-down jeans passed for stretch marks. He wore a few layers of IZODS and Penny Loafers with dimes in their tongues.
When the large lady's breast landed on the bald guy's head, our little church was anything but dead. She got blessed while nursing and when she stood and that blanket fell, seems the men got blessed as well.