By Ted Furlow
Back in the dark ages of the Latin Mass, I was privileged to be an altar boy. While I have very fond memories of the liturgy in those days, I have very limited enthusiasm for the priest facing the wrong way and using a language that no one understands. That said, I must confess to be a “Smells and Bell”s guy, and I do miss the theater of the pre-Vat II liturgy.
It is coming to the end of summer, and we are back from the first leg of the Cruise Director’s Great Northwest Adventure.
By Ted Furlow
The Oregon females, my daughter, Jen, and two granddaughters, Annie and Kate, descended on the house along with Westlake Furlows, my daughter-in-law, Susie, and a third granddaughter, Faith. For three days, awash in a sea of estrogen, I was outnumbered six to one. It was the “girls weekend.”
By Ted Furlow
I have a colleague from my working days who is also in his 70’s, and we have the unique pleasure of sharing “time.”
By Ted Furlow
I was comfortably seated at our Men’s Fellowship, when the conversation casually drifted towards pornography. I could feel the tension tighten in the room; most men are not at ease talking about this issue.
