The Preciousness of Truth—The High Cost of Dishonesty
Perhaps like the beloved grandfather I never got the chance to be, I am writing especially to younger folks,. I'm the oldest of 4 sons, the oldest of the cousins on one side, and third oldest on the other side of my extended family. My youngest brother was born when I was fifteen, and I was his frequent baby-sitter. I often gravitated toward the elderly because so many that I grew up with were older—grand parents, a couple great grands, aunts and uncles and great grands there as well, and my parents' friends. I also have always had a love for kids. After our father died, I discovered I had a concern for others, like my brothers, going through loss or alienation from their dads. I've lost track of how many in their teens and twenties, mostly boys perhaps because I had only brothers, I befriended. I have been a friend, mentor, tutor, and teacher to young men and a few young ladies growing into adulthood, some have even lived with me. I found them in coffee shops, r...