Sometimes I watch the news, or maybe it is not just news but something sensational.  Lately I have seen how easy it is for a governor to fall from grace or a young woman to rise from obscurity to fame because of what two foolish people did wrong. 

Old Blue Rosenbloom sat on a hay bale with his dime-store glasses resting on his ski-slope nose.  Because he moved his lips, everybody at the barn assumed that he was reading the newspaper he held.

Today is my birthday.  I’m 23 years old.  While I don’t get as excited about birthdays as I use to, I still look forward to them.  However, I realize that some people don’t like to acknowledge their birthday, as it is a reminder that they are a year older, but that seems rather silly to me.  I can’t understand all these people I encounter who regard their birthday as “just another day,” some of whom aren’t that much older than me.  I can feel blasé about life the other 364 days of the year without having to ruin my birthday being consumed by an inevitable fact, over which I have no control.  While I may not be thrilled about aging, I know that refusing to celebrate will not stop me from getting older.  Having that attitude would only cause me to feel even worse.

If I could have planned the resurrection, I would have done it differently. Mind you, I would not want to have been in charge of the actual resurrection itself. Getting me up in the morning is often more than I can do. I just would like to have had a chance at the logistics, the details.

I’ve read many wonderful columns recently in the paper about religion and faith. It’s great that we can entertain these discussions in the public arena. That said, I felt called to respond to one recent column by Dr. Mark Ross, in which he belies the tendency of folks to shop for different churches like cornflakes.

An old Easter week tradition has survived the centuries, in one form or another, which calls to me more than the music, the lilies and dyed eggs. It is the tradition of pilgrimage—whether for days or a few hours, whether down the block or along roads to a holy shrine, up Mount Brandon or down the New River Trail.

Front-row seats are prized and usually allotted according to higher prices at concerts and sporting events. Yet there’s one front row seat we dread and hope to never fill.

Five years ago, March 20, 2003, we woke up to the news that the United States had invaded Iraq.  It wasn’t exactly a surprise.  Congress had, months before, given President George Bush permission to do what he wanted.

I thought I was brilliant when I proposed that the Washington County Public Library move into the old hospital building once Johnston Memorial builds its new hospital.  It turns out that, in a public survey initiated by Councilwoman Cathy Lowe, a number of other people suggested the same thing.  This is just one more example of people stealing my ideas before I have them.  I really hate it when people do that. 

Editor’s Note: If you are a member of PETA, you will find numerous offenses in the following. Do us both a favor and refuse, with the usual righteous indignation, of course, to read one word more. If you don’t refuse and find those aforementioned numerous offenses, please DO NOT fill my e-mail box with messages explaining the errors of my ways. It will only make me dislike you on a very personal level as I can assure you that no amount of data, persuasive language or haranguing could ever make me see the many errors of my ways. Also, if you are married to me, you might want to stop reading now and wait for a column that doesn’t include you as a main character.