Roger Bothwell | Devotional
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I have a confession to make.  My favorite store is Dollar Tree.  One never knows exactly what will be available.  When wandering about I stock up on things I know I will eventually need.  If I see my usual kind of toothpaste I will get...

Today is a day from Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring.   There are no birds, there are no squirrels.  My bird feeders hang dormant.  The suet feeders are untouched.  Normally when this happens it is short lived because our neighborhood hawk is present.  But this has been...

You know those commercials where the little old lady falls on the floor and cries out, “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”  Well, it happened last night to my older sister.  She lives alone and fell out of bed.  She didn’t have to...

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be something else or someone else?  What or who would you be if you could just for 24 hours not be you?  Would you be someone famous; an actor, a politician, an athlete, a gifted...

We just returned from Boston Symphony Hall where our souls were nourished for two and half hours as we listened to Handel’s Messiah.  It is not difficult to pinpoint my favorite five minutes.  I know we all stood for the Hallelujah Chorus but for me...

Thanksgiving is almost a synonym for food.  Food preparation is not one of my gifts.  Therefore about halfway through the holiday I begin to feel guilty.  While I am watching football others are busy in the kitchen.  Trying to compensate I look for little things...

On November 8, 1972, we sat in a plane with our pockets full of cash waiting to leave Entebbe, Uganda.  The cash wasn’t ours.  President Idi Amin had exiled all 580,000 Asians without Ugandan citizenship.  Each family could leave with only $140.  Thousands buried huge...

Our backyard camera recorded two large raccoons skillfully taking down our suet feeder and dragging it off into the woods.  This afternoon there was a bark at the door and there was our wonder dog with the suet feeder at her feet.  What a good...

A strong November wind has finally stripped our trees.  My woods finally look like Robert Frost’s poem My November Guest.  “My Sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the...

The signs of senescence are beginning.  (Most of my students are amused that just now I am noticing.  They think anyone over 50 needs senior care.)  I got a nice brown flannel shirt earlier this week.  (It’s very warm and should pay for itself by...