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
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.
James Fenimore Cooper Jr. and Margaret Bendroth are rummaging through church attics and basements in the New England states, especially Massachusetts, looking for records of early American life. Some churches are reticent to part with old documents, but the two historians point out how vulnerable the documents are and offer to keep them in a climate-controlled rare book room at the Congregational Library in Boston. Among their findings: a church in Middleboro possessed an application for membership submitted in 1773 by a slave (New York Times, July 29).