The dispatcher called on the radio and reported that there was a burglar alarm going off at a house west of town.
A little bit is good, but more is better………Right? Especially when it comes to fire…………..or was that ice cream?
I was headed to college unbeknownst to my parents.
I left momma begging me to save her.
The happy camper found that her words were trajically prophetic.
The crash of glass was heard as I tried to make it through the door.
We had to climb to the peak of that mountain and live to tell the tale. Unfortunately for us, we lived in Kansas, so the nearest mountain was over 600 miles away, in Colorado.
As a preachers kid, having my girlfriend over to the parsonage was a tricky business.
Dad had a drinking problem that caused shame, anger, and embarrassment as a minister.
Dad bought Spumoni ice cream which, as a child, I decided was torture.
That toy truck flew like a rocket when we put the electricity to it. And nearly killed the neighbor doing it.
Mother scarred me for life when she had me wear second-hand girls clothing and tried to convince me they were boys clothes.
Exploring the church crawlspace on a secret mission. We thought we’d been successful until unforeseen circumstances intervened.
I was ashamed by my first name until I found out the wonderful story of my namesake. Now just call me Lou.
I will confess to painting on the wall of the church, but will claim that I have a defense. My little sister talked me into it.