It's the story I hear most often. I will be listening to someone tell me about a day spent at the beach 30 years ago, a glorious day. Everything was perfect until.
And suddenly I will be listening to a different story, a story stained with bewilderment and betrayal and tears. I will be talking to a woman whose husband drinks - he didn't always drink, he used to be a nice guy. You should have known him when.
Read MoreIn 30 years this country has gone from being a place where you could picnic in the woods, walk the streets at night, cut through an alley, sleep without locking your doors, drive without worrying about getting lost and ending up in a neighborhood where people will kill you, drive without worrying about a boulder crashing through your window, or a bullet smashing through your head, send your child to school without fear that someone will take a shot at him on the bus, or beat him up in the school yard, or knife him in class.
Read More"Take a right when you leave the building," a stranger told her. "That's a right. You don't want to go left. It's not a safe part of town."
Not safe. Not white. The thought is automatic. She turns right, runs along the street, comes to an intersection. Two cars have collided. Three black men are arguing. She thinks: I am going to get caught in crossfire? I am crazy? They are just talking. She continues running, comes to a track. Nearly a dozen people are on the track, all of them black. She joins in.
Read MoreWilliam Safire, the New York Times' resident expert in the use of the English language, made a mistake last week. He wrote: "The last time a dying man ran for president of the U.S. was in 1944." This is not true. Franklin Roosevelt WAS dying when he ran in 1944, but so is every man who is running for president now. We are all dying from the moment we are born. We don't like to think about this, but death is our destiny. None of us knows when or how or where we'll die. We don't come with guarantees or promises. We simply are until we are not. To quote an Elton John’s song, we are all "candles in the wind."
Read MoreThere it is. On my bulletin board. Someone sent it to me. The rules for life. "Share everything. Play fair. Put things back where you found them. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. Flush."
I always smile when I read this. Most days I marvel at the wisdom in such brevity. But today I think they were rules for a gentler time.
A woman tells me that her father began sexually abusing her when she was 11 years old.
"Do you mind?" he asked her.
"You're my father," she said.
Read MoreIn the town where I grew up in the 1960s, there was a priest, a young, energetic, dedicated man who embraced God and the church with a passion I will never forget. Every mass seemed a high mass when he celebrated it; every prayer, every blessing seemed a promise. Words diminish whatever it was he brought to the altar with him. And yet I have never found in any other church what I found in my youth in this man's presence.
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