On Sunday, I was part of a ceremony to recognize the beginning of a pastor’s service to a church. The one who was commissioned is a friend of mine, a gentleman who has already accomplished much in his life.
John Lowe is such a great guest, don’t be surprised if this second visit isn’t his last. When he came back a second time he hit two really important topics, failure and leadership.
Earlier this month, Southern Living named Poole’s Diner the best diner in North Carolina and praised it as follows: “Diners often feel frozen in time, and while Poole’s has the retro chrome edging, and red artificial leather stools and booths, you won’t find anyone in old-school waitress uniforms.”
The scenes in the poem “Madras” oscillate between the cultural corners of Madras (now called Chennai), India. From a meal at Karpagambal Cafe in the bang center of the city, where simplicity beckons at temples, crowded flower markets and tea stalls, the reader is wafted on a journey to the beach watching the sunset
This Just In – It’s Pi Day (3.14) and I’m going to try to refrain from all the puns and bad jokes about trying to resolve the unknowable question of “What’s 22/7?”
Here’s a small ode to the tiny brush that an umpire uses to clean the home plate. After whipping this brush out of the belt pocket, an experienced ump can clean the plate with only a few discrete snaps of the wrist.