Newly elected Florida governor Ron DeSantis is keeping his campaign promise to appoint conservative justices to fill the newly created vacancies in the Florida Supreme Court. As a Christian, I am hopeful for the future of our state.
Last Saturday thousands lined Gulf Boulevard on Navarre Beach for the annual Mardi Gras parade, a family friendly version of the more hedonistic event in New Orleans. Mardi Gras, French for “Fat Tuesday,” refers to the Tuesday before Ash Wednesday and marks the end of a month of festivities before the forty-day season of Lent.
High school memories are not always the best. In my “less-than-best” category are English class reading assignments: read some literary classic and be prepared to discuss it in class or, worse yet, write a paper on it. Many of the assigned books failed to interest me, so I often relied on another literary classic – Cliff’s Notes. However, one book ignited my imagination – James Hilton’s Lost Horizons, with its fictional lamasery Shangri-la secreted high in the mountains of Tibet. Hilton introduced me to the idea of a utopia, the dream of a perfect life in a perfect place. Haven’t we all yearned for such an idyllic existence, a perfect life with no sickness or sadness or loss, in a place where hatred and violence don’t exist?
Recently, after three long months apart, I moved my wife, our dog, Brewster, and all our worldly possessions from Naples to Navarre. To save money, I rented a large truck in Naples and hired a company to do the work of loading it. They sent over three men: two to carry our stuff to the truck, and a third, whom I called The Puzzle Man, to figured out how to fit it all on the truck. I’d like to say that they were careful, but I would be lying.
“You’re going to enjoy it!” a voice called out as I walked into a local restaurant for lunch. I turned expecting to see an employee, the owner perhaps, but this unsolicited review came from another diner, doggie-bag in hand, getting up to leave. “So, what do you recommend?” I asked. He recommended something I’d never order. “Thanks!” I replied. I did not know that this brief exchange had breached some social-etiquette firewall; this stranger walked over to my booth and sat down. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. “It’s fine,” I replied neutrally. He began to pour out his life’s story.
Who doesn’t love auto-correct on their smartphones? OK, nobody loves auto-correct. I have friends who think I’m a moron because of auto-corrected texts I’ve sent. My relationship with Apple’s “Siri” is better. I can ask Siri a question and get a spoken answer. I ask Siri to take me to a destination and I get step-by-step, verbal directions. However, ours is not a trouble-free relationship. Recently, I asked Siri to take me to a destination. Traffic was heavy, so I drove along in the center lane. At the absolute last minute, Siri said, “Turn left.” No warning. No, “I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.” I missed my turn and had to fight through traffic to recover; Smart phone indeed!
