I am teaching a little boy to read.
That is, I am hoping to teach a little boy to read.
The first sentence expresses what I envisioned when I signed up last spring to work as a volunteer tutor with young Latino students.
The second reflects reality.
I am teaching a little boy to read.
That is, I am hoping to teach a little boy to read.
The first sentence expresses what I envisioned when I signed up last spring to work as a volunteer tutor with young Latino students.
The second reflects reality.
Does forgiveness have a place when it comes to serving convicted criminals?
For that matter, do criminals deserve to be served in any way?
I ask because recently I rediscovered a subject I started to explore a year or so ago but put aside. It began as part of my inquiry into whether it’s possible to fight injustice with an open, loving heart. To me, this is one of the most intriguing questions facing those of us who want to make the world a more equitable place. I’m on the lookout for people who are working to oppose injustice without bitterness or anger—a truly difficult task—and I’ve found a few, though they’re rare. I write about this at length in my forthcoming book about selfless service.
Last week I had an incredible adventure, marked with a few moments of—well, “terror” is probably too strong a word. But it’s fair to say that I was well out of my comfort zone and nose-to-nose with my own mortality.
In the process I learned something vital about my efforts to help others.
Sometimes being right is exactly the wrong thing.
Since my dad’s death in November, I’ve kept in close touch with my mother. My parents were married for 64 years, and one of the most significant things I can do for Mom is to give her steady emotional support.
A few evenings ago I failed in that respect.
I’ve been thinking lately about stereotypes, and how it’s so easy to fall into using them, even when I try to stay on moral high ground. As a writer, it could even be said that I depend on them. If, say, I were to write, “The thin black man put a hand to his cheek and drew his fingers through a patchy beard. His nails were long and covered with what looked like motor oil,” I’m willing to bet you could envision the person. He would not be dressed in a suit.
The trick is to avoid snap judgments and prejudices based on appearance, class or race.