The third thing she told me was that life begins at 50. She said this just to me, out of earshot from my traveling companion, as she was tucking me back into the driver's seat, right before she said, "I love you," which is what she always said at the end. We had been together … Continue reading Life begins at 50.
Sometimes it's hard for me to believe in God. And before you run off worrying that I'm about to go all come-to-Jesus on you, understand that I long ago decided to believe what I believe, relinquishing any desire to control what you or anyone else might choose to believe. You've got yours; I've got mine. … Continue reading A certain lack of certainty.
I am a converted believer in Memphis, my hometown, the place I vowed never to live after turning 18. It wasn't some great epiphany. Like many conversions, it was subtle and happened while I wasn't paying attention. If, generally speaking, places have a way of growing on a person, then Memphis is the kudzu of … Continue reading 12 articles of faith for a Memphis believer.
“I want to be Jewish,” I told my mother. I was in the middle of that time when, as I now know, all children wonder about their place in the cosmic dimension. Our urban Presbyterian church had an exchange program in which, one Sunday a month, our senior minister would preach at the local Reform … Continue reading This, I believe.
The way my mother told the story, in the depths of the Great Depression my grandfather abandoned a well-paid post repairing machines and engines to become a Baptist preacher because he was called by God to do so. For many years I thought this tale was one of my mother's great revisionist history inventions. Then … Continue reading Called.
