The Devil's Gift

In California, we were required to wear masks in all public places. Same with Oregon and Washington. And then we crossed into Idaho.

This past weekend I saw two sons of Shepherdstown—one in a wheelchair, the other in an enduring funk. Each has been through countless rehabs. One has triumphed over tragedy. The other still struggles.

On Saturday, September 11, a motley group of people gathered at The Folly outside Shepherdstown to raise funds for a friend. Sarah, a mother of four children, has stage 4 breast cancer.

My friend died suddenly last month. He was 91. I was shocked and saddened. I also felt guilty.

Last month one of my Albuquerque granddaughters worked on my nature trail nearly every day.

In case you missed the postscript last Sunday, here it is again.

I fell in love with Jane in Anthropology 101 class my sophomore year in college. She was tall, slender, and beautiful.

I just met the most amazing person, and I can’t wait to tell you about her.

Paula is my wife. So you might think I’m her “passion.” Well, I am. And she’s mine. But that’s not the passion of this post.

Today is the Fourth of July. It’s a day to celebrate the Declaration of Independence. I’d like to. But something won’t let me.