Extemporaneous musings, occasionally poetic, about life in its richly varied dimensions, especially as relates to history, theology, law, literature, science, by one who is an attorney, ordained minister, historian, writer, and African American.
Reminds me of the first time I fell off my tricycle. I cried in outrageous protest, though not in true pain. My maternal aunts, observing my plight, kept right on swinging on the front porch swing in Canton, Mississippi, saying "Get up and try it again. Get up and try it again." I was used to hugs and kisses from them, so I was completely out-done. But, after awhile, I stopped crying, dusted myself off, and kept on tricycling, having learned wise lessons!