Do you have children? If so, I’m willing to bet that you have at least one whose personality mirrors your own. The phenomenon can be as frustrating as it is rewarding. In our family’s case, it’s our youngest child – my daughter – who inherited many of my traits.
Are you a dog person? I sure am. I read somewhere that dogs are God’s apology for humans. If so, He did a good job apologizing.
The evening news – I used to be such a fan of it. I’d tune in to Brokaw, Jennings or Rather or Wilson every night, transfixed by the chaotic goings-on in the world.
The newest household name – Irma – is wreaking havoc here in the southeast United States. A couple of weeks ago, I only knew one person named Irma, and she’s such a sweet and kind woman.
If you have children, I’m willing to bet that you’ve learned a lot from them. Boy, I sure have. Still do. My husband and I have four children; when we married, he had two girls, and I had a son and a daughter. They are spaced exactly two years apart, so that worked out nicely.
As a whippoorwill calls out from one of the nearly century-old pine trees in the backyard, I smile, take pause, sip my tall cup of coffee – strong and black, no sugar – and continue my walk in the garden and a talk with God.
(For Part 1, click or copy and paste the following link: https://gwinnettcitizen.com/opinion/columnists/cut-to-the-chase-dave-emanuel/3439-the-fight-to-end-child-sex-trafficking.)
It was easy to ignore. And that’s what most people did. Sure, there was some amount of hand-wringing and head shaking, but news that 11-year old Jane Doe was missing didn’t elicit much of a response outside of immediate friends and family members. In most people’s minds, Jane was just another young girl who had run away because her parents wouldn’t buy her the latest iPhone or a pair of $150 shoes.
While I enjoyed spending weekends with my grandkids, nothing matched a recent weekend visit to Tybee Island where I decided it was as good a time as any to show my grandson Carter how Pappaw could boogie board.
We’ve all heard the expression “dog days of summer.” For the longest time, I actually thought that this expression referred to the long, hot days of summer that are so long and brutally hot, even dogs suffer. Thank goodness for Google (actually, thank goodness for my freshman Government professor, for throwing that random reference into the middle of a long, dry lecture. It’s all I remember from his class).
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