RICH: To see the thunder

There is a scripture in the Bible. As far as I know, it is not in all translations of the Bible. But this I know for certain: it is in the King James Version. When I was 10, perhaps 11, Daddy preached the scripture from the roughhewn pine pulpit in the tiny one-room mountain church we attended.

RICH: Timothy James

It had been a long day. Not a particularly tiring or stressful one. It was the kind of day where so much happened so quickly that, later you ask, “Did that happen yesterday? Or before?” We were in Nashville for the fourth time in weeks.

RICH: A Gothic Christmas tale

At the turn of the 20th century, and on into the mid-1950s, life in the Appalachians was a tale of black-and-white gothic existence.

RICH: A profound decision (or so I think)

Perhaps you’ll want to sit down for this. It might even be advisable to grab a cool, wet washrag for your forehead in case you feel swimmy-headed over this news. I’m going to start minding my own business.

RICH: The prayer march

The old man shuffled along the sidewalk, his work boots dusty with a hint of red mud clinging to one heel. From the pocket of well-worn overalls, he pulled a red bandana and wiped his nose.

RICH: You’re gonna miss me (when I’m gone)

It was one of Mama’s favorite refrains. One that she used less than some but much more than others. “Y’all are gonna miss me when I’m gone.” She’d nod her head slightly and wink. “You just wait and see if you don’t.

RICH: When jury duty calls

Nowhere are the common threads that make up America’s fabric showcased more than in the courthouse in the midst of a vast jury pool. There, the tire store owner sits shoulder-to-shoulder with the high school teacher who is seated next to a grocery store baker who speaks to her neighbor, the farmer.

RICH: The joy of reading

A dear friend told me that his eyesight is being destroyed by the disease. It is vanishing so quickly that, daily, a bit of it disappears, forever. He now can only see shadows. The only print he can read is sizable, and magnified many times. Still, he has to study to figure out the letters.

RICH: A beautiful life’s final place of rest

It’s been at least 20 years since I visited Winston Churchill’s grave in the tiny English village, a stone’s throw from Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of Churchill’s uncle, the Duke of Marlborough, where the history- making Prime Minister was born.

RICH: O come, angel band

It was Friday night. We had just walked in from a supper of hamburgers and Cokes, with all the family, at the Soda Fountain. A friend, Barbara, texted urgently that our mutual friend, Dinah, was being rushed to the hospital. Possibly a stroke.