As book reviews go, I think this one is likely to be a little unfair.
Concerning Love, Imperfectly Known by the Christian monk and mystic, Brother Emmanuel of Taizé: it’s hard for me to be objective about a book that I have grown to adore so personally. This disturbs me a little bit. I would like to lay this out to you in its component parts. I should offer you pros and cons, and cross-comparisons. I should not be so dramatically affected by a book, that I cannot help you to make your own, informed decisions.
So, I am apologizing to you in advance, for my bias. If clinical impartiality is what you need in a book review, then you should stop reading now. But, for those who wish to know why this book has so completely captured my heart, then please, read on. Continue reading
When I heard the news yesterday, on August 5th, 2014, I tried to talk myself out of it. “No, couldn’t be Harry. I mean, a million people in the world could be named Harold Greene, anyway.” I didn’t turn on the news or pick up a paper until today. Then, I saw a copy of the local news at Starbucks, and there was his picture.
It sounds almost obscene, coming from me. Harold Greene was a world famous intellect, leader, diplomat, and soldier. I was a contractor who served at Fort Hood, under the “Good Enough” software integration build back in 2004 – 2006. He was a Colonel, then, stationed at Ft. Monmouth, who was heading up the effort. I was the engineer at Hood that didn’t fit in, with no military history, a thin skin, and no real clue about how to navigate a tense, fast-paced work environment. And so, it sounds almost obscene, but I will say it anyway: Colonel Greene was my friend. Continue reading
Hard work usually pays off, except when it doesn’t.
I distinctly remember this man’s name. I won’t say it here because I’m a complete and total wuss. I think there is a chance that somewhere, somehow, he will see it and say, “Hey, that’s me!” I’m not sure I like the implications of that, but it’s not going to stop me. It will just prod me into changing his name to protect the innocent. So, with that disclaimer in place, here goes my story.
Kyle worked for my mother, as a student proctor in the developmental math lab at Lamar University. He was witty, charming, endearing, sensitive, and about 10 years older than me. As a dewey-eyed 18 year old, I thought he was perfect. I wanted to date him in the worst way, but it was not to be. First of all, Mom was his boss, and so it would have been weird. Secondly, he was committed in a long-term relationship. But even more important: Kyle was gay. Continue reading