Lessons in Faith and Setting Standards I cannot discover when Mom and Dad moved to the Old Hyde Place. I know it was before 1945 — the year I was born — and probably after 1936 when Dad went to work for the federal prison system in Springfield, Missouri. What I do know is that…
Letters from the Old Hyde Place
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On not taking refuge This posting will seem like a departure from my usual Letters From the Old Hyde Place; and in a way, it is. It is more contemporary. But that was inevitably going to be the case. My history from the Old Hyde Place, the stories themselves, isn’t endless. But I like to…
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The President is dead I always remember the day and the times. But the times seem more relevant recently. I’m certainly a different person than I was as a 18-year-old just starting to college in the midst of a tumultuous time — the 1960s. Those years shaped some my beliefs as the result of political…
