Opinions

Before telling you about my $7 million weapon-buying spree, I’d like to tell you about my relationship with guns.
As kids, my brothers and I got BB guns about the time we turned 12. Dad set up a shooting range in the garage using a thick moving pad as a backstop, and a two inch piece of pipe hanging from a string as the target. After a little practice, hitting the pipe on the first shot was simple; the challenge was hitting it again while it was swinging. Thanks to this head start, I fared well on the rifle range in the Army.

As I was saying, the final impetus to remove the stack of drug money from my office closet came when we landed the new minister as the guest of honor at a small dinner party and I was afraid Sabra would uncover the stash in a cleaning frenzy.

I got especially nervous after we joined the church across the street about the pile of $100 bills in the closet of the bedroom at home that doubles as my office.

On a quick trip home for Mom’s 89th birthday, Sabra and I stopped at a Subway for lunch.
The sandwich shop is a good fit for us, especially when we’re on the road.
Sabra typically gets a 6-inch chicken or veggie with a few select toppings. It’s agony for both of us, as she goes down the list asking herself if she should or should not add cheese, if so which cheese, onions or no onions, peppers or no peppers, etc. I can feel myself wasting away while she decides between mustard or vinegar as the final dressing.
Me, I got it down to a science.

While growing up in the suburbs of Chicago in the late 1950s and early ‘60s, the last place in the world you wanted to be on a hot summer’s day was in the house because there was no air conditioning, much less video games. Besides, if you were around, Mom might find a chore for you.