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I stepped out of our taxi at the Chennai train station in South India. Thousands of people milled about like ants. A cacophony of noise arose, as confusing as the Wall Street Stock Exchange. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Once we were stationary, a horde of porters barraged our party, desperately desiring to handle our baggage. Our host, Babu, negotiated with them, and quicker than you can say “chicken masala,” porters snatched up our bags and toted them off on their heads.
Read MoreOn July ninth a Dutch museum honored recently deceased artist, William Schippers by covering their floor with more than 800 pounds of peanut butter—enough to make 15,000 sandwiches. It was a re-creation of his 1969 work aptly entitled “Peanut Butter Floor.” Two museum employees labored for days, spreading forty buckets of peanut butter with a drywall trowel across a framed 270-square-foot hexagon. Instructions to visitors stated, “No one is to stand in, or lie down on the peanut butter.” Good suggestion.
Read MoreRecently I made a shocking discovery. My father is actually older than sliced bread. Sliced bread debuted on July 7, 1928. On Monday, July 6, we celebrated my dad’s 98th birthday, which makes him older than sliced bread … by one day.
Read MoreOn July 4, 1776, fifty-six men signed a document that changed the world, the Declaration of Independence. Did they have any idea that 250 years later, the nation they created would stand as the world’s greatest super-power, as today we celebrate our semiquincetennial? (Try saying that really fast five times!)
Read MoreDon’t ask me why, but a few weeks back, in a curious moment, I calculated the number of days since Linda passed. As it turns out, today (06/26/26), marks exactly 1000 days. I guess I’m feeling a bit pensive today, as I contemplate the frailty of life.
Read MoreRecently I laid to rest two old friends. We shared global adventures together—visiting the pyramids, cruising the Caribbean, and ministering in Uganda. These were devoted companions. Their names? Flip and Flop, my old sandals.
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