I retired from full-time ministry in June of 2022. I still preach regularly at area churches and have done so since the summer of 1966. All in all, that’s nearly 57 years preaching and almost 52 years pastoring.
I can’t tell the story of the weasel without telling the story of the Guinea pig. The two go together. They seem an odd pair, but their story is sadly intertwined.
I know that in the original black-and-white version of the classic movie “King Kong,” the monstrous ape—once captured and conveyed to New York City—was billed as “The Eighth Wonder of the World.” Why I can remember that, but not remember “The Seven Wonders of the World,” I don’t know.
Last month in this space I shared a profile of Helen Hamer Walters, who hosted a daily talk show on WOKZ (now WBGZ) for nearly 25 years, ending with her retirement in 1984. I mentioned in the post-script that I am related to Helen and also worked with her at WOKZ for a couple of years.
I don’t know about you, but I never give any thought to my coffin. Well, not much, anyway. I hope my family doesn’t get carried away and pick an expensive one with all the funeral home bells and whistles. For the life of me—or should I say for the death of me—I don’t know what I would possib…
Recently, for some unknown reason, as I watched the sun rise on a new day, I wondered how many sunrises and sunsets I have experienced in my life.
Growing up, it was cool having a birthday on Valentine’s Day. At least, all the girls in my grade school thought so. Something about it gave me almost celebrity status in the hallways and classroom of Inglis School in my hometown.
The older I get, the more distance I put between yesterday and today. Images from my past grow hazy and indistinct. People I knew and loved are harder to put a face to, though the memories remain.
I am a namesake—the fifth consecutive generation among Heston males with the middle name of Clinton.
As a pastor for more than 50 years, I have done my share of baptisms. Hundreds. Perhaps thousands. Of those, two are deeply imbedded in my psyche.
What comes to mind when you think about practicing self-love, self-care, and mindfulness?
Her father was a grocer. Her mother’s family was replete with grocers. Her brothers became grocers. She married a grocer. And, despite managing her husband’s grocery during World War II, Helen Hamer Walters took a very different career path which led her to become the grande dame of Alton radio.
I folded laundry this morning only to discover that I had lost yet another sock, victim of the in-house Bermuda Triangle otherwise known as the clothes dryer. It was part of my favorite sock tandem. I felt it called for an appropriate obituary.
I was a seventh grader. That was problematic enough. My birthday was fast approaching. I wanted one particular gift—a ring: gold band holding a black marble square with a gold letter “P” perfectly centered. I had to have that thing.
It had snowed all day Saturday and through the night into Sunday, making our down-one-steep-hill-immediately-up-another-steep-hill road impassable. All the time, the temperature had been dropping. More accurately, free falling. It was bitter cold.
The dead-end street on which I spent my childhood descended steeply to the south where it met the west end of Asbury, requiring a car to make a 90-degree left turn to climb an equally steep incline to literally get anywhere.
It is that time of the year again when social media will be filled with sentimental posts discussing how 2022 had many unique challenges. These posts will be followed by hollowed-out pictures and other posts about how 2023 will be different. Verbal motivation will be high, but discipline wil…
I loved acting when I was in high school. And I was pretty good at it, too. I usually secured the lead role in any school play, except musicals. After all, it’s hard to vie for the lead in a high musical when you can’t sing worth a hoot. Many of my teenage peers could sing beautifully, but I…
When my mother was a child, she learned there was no Santa Claus when she found the jolly elf’s unloaded revolver in her Uncle Otis’ dresser drawer.
