My wife and I recently went to see William Inge's play Picnic,
which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1953. It was a riveting performance. I
was moved by how deeply the characters struggle to figure out who they
are in their corner of the world, a small town in Kansas.
I have not baptized many adults, so those I have baptized stand out and
are special to me. One was a woman I'll call Eleanor. Eleanor's hair has
tight curls. She walks with a slight limp and smells a bit of cigarette
smoke.
My George Foreman Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine is sitting in
my basement, serving as a lovely stand for our waffle iron. It still
works fine, but I think I've only turned it on twice since I unwrapped
it two or three years ago.
