You’ve probably seen funny videos on social media of cats climbing and sometimes destroying Christmas trees. Luckily, my cat doesn’t knock my tree over or break ornaments. She is fascinated with Christmas decorations though.
My former colleague Jenny, a journalist, has elevated cover letter-writing to an art form. No joke, she’s that good. Her cover letters have been circulating among media professionals for years as a gold standard for comparison
In 1955, a commercial on all four stations on our black-and-white RCA television after Thanksgiving convinced me I wanted a set of handbells, with lyrics to songs in colors that matched similarly colored bells, guaranteeing I would produce beautiful music.
Mark Doty's “Messiah: Christmas Portion” begins with an ironic observation. As the speaker enters a church in a small New England coastal town to hear his fellow citizens attempt this masterwork by George Frederic Handel, his eye is caught by a glorious sunset and he can’t help wondering “how could they / compete with sunset’s burnished / oratorio?”
James Earl Jones has one of the most distinctive voices in Hollywood (think Darth Vader in Star Wars, Mufasa in The Lion King, and “This is CNN”). Yet you might be surprised to learn that as a child he stuttered terribly and dreaded public speaking.
We knew eventually it would happen again, but we never knew exactly when. When we moved into our bungalow we soon discovered that most of the basements on our block would flood whenever the rains fell too quickly—including ours.
My mother never had difficulty staying awake—she would wait up for every family member until they were home safe in their beds.
In what has now become a cult classic, A Knight’s Tale, a 2001 movie starring Heath Ledger, tells the story of a young 14th-century English thatcher’s son who is encouraged by his father to “change his stars” by accepting an apprenticeship to a knight.
The celebration of Christ the King helps people to remember to put Christ first in their hearts—and in so doing put others first, too.
My dad’s four sisters are all named Mary. Well, not exactly. The youngest one is named Maureen—which is Mary in Gaelic. They all go by their middle names—in Maureen’s case, Grace, or Gracie. She is my Godmother. She passed away recently, unexpectedly, and far too young.