As evening sunlight fades, the charming city comes alive with twinkling lights, like those shining on the Smith College sign overlooking Main Street’s historic brick buildings. They also hang in strings above Pulaski Park, watching over couples strolling past, and old friends lounging at outdoor tables.
A single pinprick of light that overcame the darkness, which draws our gaze like a candle burning in darkness.
On the overseas travel front, I went to Mexico and visited with El Rancho Del Rey boys for the third time, traveled through West Sweden for the second time, and experienced Iceland for the first time. In-country, I went to New York a few times, Georgia, Alabama, Cape Cod and Boston.
Those news agencies that aren’t as ingrained into the online community haven’t fallen prey to this click-bait storytelling concept: these organizations haven’t sensationalized the Hampshire College story, because it’s trivial.
As an example: 22News, a locally based 24-hour broadcast news station covering Western Mass. has written and posted 42 articles about Hampshire College. The Springfield Republican, a newspaper (not 24/7), which posts its stories on MassLive.com (which is 24/7), has written roughly 15 stories. Western Mass. News, which is on the 24-hour cycle, driving its profit from online traffic, has written about 20 articles about the controversy.
In contrast, the Daily Hampshire Gazette, a local paper covering Hampshire County, not on the 24-hour cycle, has written about 10 articles on the controversy, with about another 10 or so letters and columns submitted to the paper by its readers.
I carry my burdens to God: take this atlas stone of other’s pain to the Creator of a love so encompassing, so overarching, so blindingly bright, that even darkness cannot remain dark any longer.
This truth I believe; that God so entirely and completely loved the world that He sent His only son, Jesus, to save humanity from itself.
Truly, Emanuel: God-with-us. Now, in this desperate, painful time, God is with us.
Cars pass by sending mist up into the night. Slowly, slowly, the moon creeps up over the mountain’s edge, casting pale light onto the peaceful valley, painting soft texture into shadows in the back parking lot of Jerry’s Place. My perch, about 15 feet up from the ground, is a perfect alcove of serenity in the midst of a pretty chaotic existence down below.