My Dad was quite a guy. With a heck of a story. His father, Wesley, was a church mouse poor religion professor at the tiny Nampa Nazarene College just west of Boise. Until, that is, he contracted tuberculosis and they moved him home to the frigid prairies north of...
I’m ashamed to admit how many times I’ve watched the Australian film, Unfinished Sky, over the last week or ten days. Actually, I suppose I could say that I have nothing to admit because I’ve completely lost track. Is it 4? Or 10? And, if I knew...
Take it from me, this bipolar thing can leave a jumbled pile of wreckage in its wake. For me, it’s mostly about people. Spouse. Kids. Relations. Friends. But let’s not forget the star of this little drama: me. Or, more specifically, the person...
Marleen and I meet with a few other members of our church, Greenwood Community, a couple of times a month. Actually, we don’t really “meet”-we Zoom, what with all this COVID stuff. Our “small group” is one of several at Greenwood who meet...
Our local rag-The Denver Post-ran a front page story on September 3 with the headline, “Mental Health Issues Spike.” (I tried to find the on-line version to link it here, but no dice. Why? Not sure. The Post’s internet pipeline is as shriveled as...