Since I’ve already discussed spiritual applications from political matters such as primaries and debates, I thought I might as well complete the cycle and go all the way to election day this week. It serves little purpose to discuss why it is that Candidate X aspires to win a particular election. Ostensibly it is an…
A preaching mentor of mine recently compared the church to a jigsaw puzzle and its members to individual pieces — indented to receive other pieces, and protruding to be received by others. As big a fan of puzzles, the church, and good gospel preaching, you would think I would have made better use of that word picture over the years. Well, let me spend 300 words fixing that error of omission.
Eugene V. Debs, the legendary Socialist leader, once mocked in an editorial the notion that a common railroad worker such as Debs once was could be “equal” to the grandson of Cornelius Vanderbilt, who got his start with $2 million in the bank. “If a locomotive fireman could work 4,444 years, 300 days each year, at $1.50 per day, he would be in position to bet Mr. Vanderbilt $2.50 that all men are born equal.”
Firstly, it’s no wonder Debs was so effective in his day with wordplay such as that. Secondly, it’s “created equal,” not “born equal.”
Every Southern household has its own recipe for peach cobbler. They differ widely. Personally, I like a lot of peaches, a nice goopy consistency with the filling, and a crispy, sugary crust. Others may prefer a more biscuit-like pastry, or a deeper pastry level than I like. That’s fine. Some prefer to make theirs in a casserole dish in the oven, some like the Crock Pot, some go old school and use a cast-iron Dutch oven over an open fire. Everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. But we all absolutely must agree on two bits of business: it must feature peaches, and it must be a cobbler. It’s right there in the name, after all. Peach. Cobbler.
The whole point of s’mores is fireplace, firepit or campfire entertainment with the family. You roast the marshmallow on an actual flame, then use the residual heat to melt a chocolate bar, grip the gooey goodness between two graham crackers, and go to town on it. Making them is far more enjoyable than eating them. Watching your children make them is even better.
You can do it in the microwave instead, if you like. But the crackers lose their crispiness, the marshmallow slides everywhere, it’s just a mess. There is, however, a device that will make the best microwave s’mores ever.
I love my life in Florida. But I must say, trips back to Texas remind me of what I have left behind. Bluebonnets in March, and prickly pear flowers in May. Beef brisket barbecue so good that is actually better without sauce. Two dozen varieties of peppers in your local grocery store. Mexican food that is worth eating.
But one of the least-appreciated Texas delights is a pastry called a kolache.
I always appreciate getting requests for articles and sermons. I do not always follow through; sometimes I think the subject is best left alone, and sometimes I just forget. Sorry. But the requests themselves are a blessing, in my eyes. One of the ongoing challenges in my position is coming up with new material. If a subject is thrust upon me, it naturally comes with the benefit of having at least one person interested before I ever put pen to paper. Nothing wrong with that.
There are so many satire sites out there these days, it’s tough to take any bit of ridiculousness seriously — which is, I suppose, a good thing. Anyway, I figured it was probably a gag when I saw United Airlines had denied a seat and ticket to a woman’s pet peacock, which she needed as an “emotional support animal.”
But no, this one appears to be legit.
