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  Why Bother To Be Quiet? There once was a popular song that often played on the radio of my mom’s Volkswagen, the car I’d borrow and drive around the city streets as a teenager. One of the lines from that song still sticks in my  head, “silence is golden.” But those words did not…

Why Bother To Remember The Front Porch Swing? Growing up in the Midwest in the 1960s, if a house had a front porch, it most likely also had a front porch swing. But unlike swings on a swing set, the front porch swing had a bench seat made to hold two or three people at…

    Why Bother With Love? Easter is quite the holiday. For some it means spring break from school, new shoes and clothes, a ham dinner, chocolate bunnies or hunting for hidden colored eggs. But before there ever was a holiday called Easter to celebrate, there was betrayal, envy, false accusations, mocking, scourging, an earthquake,…

  Why Bother To Take Yourself Less Seriously? When I was in fifth grade, my teacher, Sister George, pinned the letters that spelled out “whatever is worth doing is worth doing well” on the bulletin board in our classroom. I took those words to heart and for a long time afterward, no matter the task,…