Editorials

Column as I see ’em ...
It took all of three throws from Judge-Executive John Wayne Conway for me to go from brash and cocky to soaking wet.
After harassing him for several weeks in the paper and insinuating he couldn’t throw straight, Conway was first in line Friday night to shut me up and ensure he was the first to dunk me in the Little League dunking booth during the fair.
He was far from the only one. Person after person lined up through the night, in part to make me drink my words and in part to help a Little League player with cancer.

Close your eyes, and picture hope.
Harder than it reads, isn’t it?
Hope is a thing intangible, like you’re trying to pin down a wisp of smoke.
We lose hope, raise hopes, hope against hope. But like its abstract cousins love, jealousy and forgiven ess, it’s easier to say the words than to wrap our minds around exactly what hope is.

Column as I see ’em …
“Am I that detestable?” I asked a friend. “Do you really think people would pay money to throw baseballs at me and knock me into a tank of water?”
“Yes,” he said. “Given the things you write, there are people who will empty their bank accounts to buy chances to throw balls at you, just on the odd chance that one will bust through the screen and hit you in your big mouth.”

As opposed to chronicling this week what I perceive to be the misdeeds of others, allow me instead to discuss a couple of my own.
Twice in the past month I’ve attracted the attention of law enforcement, and not for good reasons. A few weeks back, I got stuck around 4 a.m. at the traffic light at the intersection of US 127 Bypass and Glensboro Road while heading to work. It was Tuesday, my early day, and I was most definitely in a hurry.