Celebrate our country, not the president
Growing up, my family spent every July Fourth at Ocean Lakes Campground in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. We had a little blue and white camper on a permanent lot. It wasn’t much, but it was ours, and years of special memories were made on that little piece of property.
Parallel lives of two men makes great history
That many Americans today suffer a disconnect from their past is beyond argument. Some of us have seen those man-in-the-street encounters where a reporter will ask questions of pedestrians — “What event do we celebrate on the Fourth of July?” or “Name the countries America was fighting during the Second World War” — only to be met with embarrassed shrugs or a blank stare.
A love story from a more innocent time
Every once in a while, a novel hits me with a punch I never saw coming, perhaps even one unintended by its author.
