While walking through the park yesterday with my three month old daughter, Aliza, an animated and somewhat frantic mother ran in front of our stroller with her five-ish year old daughter in tow. Without even the remotest acknowledgement of my presence behind the stroller, the woman pointed and shrieked-
"Look, honey! A baby, just like you saw on Sesame Street this morning!"
And just as fast as they arrived, they sped off toward the ducks feeding on the grass by the pond.
Sometimes you just have to be there-
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Sometimes, we forget that three days after dropping a nuclear bomb on Hiroshima, the United States went back and obliterated the city of Nagasaki on Aug. 9,1945, killing over 70,000 people in the twinkling of an eye - mostly civilians.
Today, many thousands of men, women, children, and survivors gathered in the city's Peace Park for a minute of silence at 11:02 a.m., the exact time the bomb fell. Over 140,000 people eventually died from the bombing.
No more. Never Again. This is our duty.
If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men - you may make some money, and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write only for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disgusted you will wish that you were dead.
New Seeds of Contemplation 1961
As I read the paper this morning, of the fiasco called sport that went on out in San Francisco while I slept, I find what little love I have left for the game, slipping away -
There may in fact be better things to do with one's time, than to participate in a sports culture now perfectly entangled with the american corporate business culture - a souless enterprise that honors the notion' screw your neighbor any way you can as long as you can get away with it'
What joy can possibly be had? What are we teaching our children?
New Home Run King, Culture of Fools.
While walking through the park yesterday with my three month old daughter, Aliza, an animated and somewhat frantic mother ran in front of our stroller with her five-ish year old daughter in tow. Without even the remotest acknowledgement of my presence behind the stroller, the woman pointed and shrieked- 
