I was not there. A bell ringer I know said she thinks it happened. While the choir, bell ringers, and pianist did their thing, 3 ladies from the congregation were to reenact the discovery of the rolled away stone. But it happened behind and not in front of the singers and musicians. But the bell ringer, along with others, was confident in what was supposed to have happened, did indeed happen. A canonized account of the rolled-away stone was authored by John Mark or Anonymous, experts say. He wrote in Greek with Gentiles being the primary targeted audience. The goal...

Me: Pray for Me ChatGPT:  As an AI language model, I don’t have any religious beliefs or affiliations, but I’m here to support you in any way I can. If you’re going through a tough time, I’m here to listen and offer words of encouragement. You’re not alone, and I’m rooting for you! Me: My feet hurt and I am not sure I love Jesus like I should. ChatGPT: I’m sorry to hear that your feet hurt. If it’s a physical discomfort, you might consider taking a break and resting your feet for a while. If it persists or becomes...

On December 22, 1950, the Raleigh Register (Beckley, West Virginia) reported on its frontpage: “Helen Man Killed Instantly as Car Wreck’s Near Ury.”  The State Police reported that Alfred J. Flanagan, 25, apparently lost control of his car, struck a boulder, and “careened along the bank of the road for about 100 feet before stopping.” The newspaper got the first name wrong, but the tragedy right. He was a beloved son, brother, and uncle, who was known as Buster. For many of us (first cousins and the lot), his name was known, but not much more. We knew he was...

This evening, Sandy and I sat upon a bench built by her father (Howard T. Skinner, Jr.) facing the new wildlife pond, home now for five of the best-looking frogs in Jefferson County. With her sniffer of Fireball and my Blue Moon beer (a must for blue collar yardwork), we toasted the memories of some who have gone on. On Friday, we were left no choice but to send Molly on, as she has been unwell for some time. She joined our household some 14 years ago, as an intended like-age companion to our beloved Fred. She was a feral...

On this day, when so many are showcasing their day of service focused on deeds and words, including photos, I thank you for your service in recognition of MLK day. It reminds me of all the other “fill-in-the-day” recognitions, holidays, and “look I care” photos and testaments, knowing that your political affiliations and affirmations serve to affirm your status. Like the Xmas decorations just recently put away, you can put away the MLK quotes until next year, when you again can celebrate being woke, white, and caring. Heck, even Republicans know the drill, and Democrats should know better. Here we...

A year ago on this day, a neighbor passed. It was a gallant fight with death. He did the regimen associated with brain cancer. He won round one, but round two was a bitch. He opted not to walk down the same path again. He took to smoking marijuana. It was an illegal act, but it provided comfort. I supported the choice and backed his play. West Virginia adopted a law for medical marijuana in 2017. Saying, not preaching, but Republicans have a natural bend of dragging their feet on things they do not support sometime. The thought being that...

I receive regular emails from West Virginia Senator Shelley Moore Capito. As a former congressional press secretary/speech writer for Congressman Harley O. Staggers, Jr. (1983 – 1993), I appreciate the intent and messaging spin. I was thinking/hoping that a new six-year term would invite the Senator to be more of a genuine statesperson, moving beyond her daddy’s embezzlement conviction and the more recent made-for-television grouping of her and other female Republican senators in a made for television framing of women supporting Brett Kavanagh and his friend Chris “Squi” Garrett. As I recall, Squi and Brett liked to drink beer, lift...

This is the youthful cohort I shared November 22, 1963 with. We had the drill down for incoming nuclear missiles. Get under your desk. But, there was no preparation for fourth graders at Schuster Elementary School in El Paso, Texas that day for the assassination of John F. Kennedy. We were informed and released. I remember walking the block and a half to my home. My uncertainty turned to grief , as I interpreted, embraced, and shared Mom’s mourning. On Monday, November 25th, I would mark my birthday, watching on a black and white TV, a caisson, a rider-less horse...