Thursday, May 21, 2020

Humble After Taking a Tumble

    Pressed between the pages of a dusty photo album is a picture of me at about twenty years old -- wearing an unsightly black eye and a band-aid. A few days earlier, I had tumbled off my water skis, and the tip of the ski clobbered my cheekbone. In my vain youth, I worried about a scar, so I went to a doctor who sewed a few stitches and later sanded it down. If the ski had hit an inch or so higher, well, I’d rather not think about that. 

A funeral hangs by a thread. Or, the Seinfeld version of a solemn occasion.

      W hen the service ended, I walked through the church doors and down the front steps, and there stood Samuel (not his real name), waiti...