If I’m dead, how am I talking and to whom?

Good morning and welcome to my funeral. Or should I say good afternoon?

If he didn’t know better, he could have imagined himself a prisoner in his own car.

Martha took Lamar’s hand. “This gang warfare is senseless. It will get you nowhere,” she said. Then she took Paulie’s hand. “Don’t you understand that if you beat Lamar and his boys, there will always be someone else waiting to take you on. The battle will never end.”

“Hanging out with your buddies on the street. Beating up strangers so often that the cops at the station know me by name. Stealing. What are you doing with your life?” His Mom slumped down on his bed and put her head in her hands.

The old wooden door was a sentry protecting those inside.

Can sports be a source for teaching acceptance, patience, understanding?

“Let’s just say, doing it for the first time on the soft sand with music playing, the sound of the waves in the background and the helping hand of wine and smokes, made for an evening I’ll never forget.”

“I’m not happy with you two. You guys missed the target altogether! What you put together will soon destroy itself and now we have to start all over someplace else.”