Clouds and Ferris Wheels

In the dark ages, there was no middle school. We had junior high, seventh through ninth grades. I still think it’s more sane than the current system (and my alma-mater school district agrees, as it’s never converted to middle school). So, entering seventh grade, I had all the usual changes:

  • A new school (one fortunately still a bike ride from my house; yes, parents, once upon a time elementary/junior high kids could actually get themselves to school).
  • A new format, six or seven different classes (it was nunya years ago, who remembers?) in different parts of the building instead of spending all day in one room.


Happy New Year, everyone. Since the last two years haven’t been a lot of fun, let’s start this one with something that, if not fun, is at least not too serious. What does the Bible have to say to us as we start this new year? Here are all the 20:22’s.

Exodus 20:22—And the LORD said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the people of Israel: ‘You have seen for yourselves that I have talked with you from heaven.’ ”

Leviticus 20:22—You shall therefore keep all my statutes and all my rules and do them, that the land where I am bringing you to live may not vomit you out.

The Stain Remains

Around the country he flew, reckless and audacious, stopping long enough to make a new charge, to exhibit a new list, a good newsworthy press conference at the airport, hail-fellow well met with the reporters, and then on to the next stop, the emptiness of the charge never catching up with him, the American press exploited in its false sense of objectivity (if a high official said something, then it was news, if not fact, and the role of the reporter was to print it straight without commenting, without assaulting the credibility of the incredulous; that was objectivity). It was like a circus; he was always on the move, his figures varied, his work was erratic and sloppy, he seemed to have no genuine interest in any true nature of security.

Becoming Less of a Man…

… in terms of mass, anyway.

Have you seen one of those pretty color-coded BMI charts lately? As of today, I’ve moved into one of those green squares. Now, it’s an edge green square, with a yellow square next to it, looking ominous and whispering “Danger, Will Robinson, danger!” But, still, it’s green.

A year ago, I was in one of those orange Whataburger-colored squares, of which a contributing cause may or may not have been Whataburgers. I was a semi-permanent resident; I had been in that square for ten years or so—there were pictures on the wall, a well-lived in couch, and stacks of chocolate in the closet.