My first-grade teacher, Miss Dugas, taught me how to draw. My second-grade teacher, Mrs. Vaughn, entered one of my drawings (a bust of Barbara Jordan) in the Black History Week art contest. I won third place for the school.
I sat down on a 5-gallon feed bucket and placed the day’s eggs in cartons. Dark was quickly approaching, and I watched the full moon light up the trees as it rose over the rim rock of the little valley.
Editor's Note: This week’s column of The Lowe Down was previously published by Cherry Road Media. It has been slightly edited.
I slumped down in the lawn chair and tried sucking air. It didn’t work. Heat shimmered off the horizon and the heat index was 107 degrees.
When I see or hear people trying to bully others into silence on the political issues at hand, I think that people have forgotten what freedom means. Our country’s founders often expressed their beliefs with passion and intensity. It’s no secret that our nation is dangerously divided with many Americans wanting nothing to do with people with differing viewpoints.
As Jesus passes through Jericho he walks by a blind man named Bartimaeus on the side of the road (Mark 10:46-52) and He asks the guy, “What do you want me to do for you?” Wow, that’s like being picked by Bob Barker (or Drew Carey) to, “Come on down!” Or, Monte Hall picking you out of the crowd when you’re dressed like a can of green beans.
Last Sunday, Rick and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. We whisked off to the San Antonio Riverwalk for a couple of days, with plans for a bigger trip later this summer. We stayed in a fancy hotel right on the river, listened to live music, ate chips and salsa at a waterside table, and watched a mama duck protect her six babies from peril.
I’m just an ordinary person. I go to work each day. I have raised my family. I struggle with bills. I take care of my parents. I get tired and wonder how my kids are doing and why they are or are not doing certain things. I go to church on Sunday and try to work and stay involved in my community.
