It’s kind of ironic, but in an age when we should be kinder toward one another simply because each of us is dealing with multiple new stressors we didn’t have this time last year – the prepandemic days – instead, more people it seems are growing hostile toward one another.
I mentioned in last week’s column that about 20% of absentee ballots are never counted, and that it is therefore preferable for those fearing the CCP virus to vote in person during early voting when lines will be to a minimum (rather than using the mail). That practice won’t guarantee that the voter avoids fraud, but it will help. I was the Republican Party’s elections administrator in Hidalgo County for a decade and a half, so I have a pretty good idea as to what can go wrong when Democrat operatives seek to game the system. We’re already seeing mail fraud beginning on the national level. Here are three examples which have come to light.
People are doing different things these days to stay sane in the midst of this pandemic and distract their respective minds from the reality of what’s going on around us. Except, perhaps, for extramarital affairs. I think the number of those are down, but who knows.
Thankfully, I am a coffee drinker and have been one going back to about the age of 10 when my mother thankfully referred to it as “coffee milk.” Sure, it was a cup of milk, but at least it had enough coffee in it to add color to the cup and pump at least a little caffeine into my system, like I needed any energy when I was young.
In the three years I’ve had the privilege and pleasure of serving at Zion Lutheran Church in Alamo, it’s become clear to me that our church—in particular, our church building—on South Alamo Road may be losing its identity. I often wonder what, if any, impression our building makes on passers-by. There’s no spire, no bell tower (well, there’s an aging one near the front doors, a sentinel from another era), only a big blue cross holding an electric sign with ZION LUTHERAN CHURCH across the top in letters that you’d swear weren’t there the first time you looked (like the bell tower, this cross is a sentinel guarding a different time). Our present building, opened in 1967, was a departure from its original, early 20th-century smalltown church design.
217 W. Park Avenue
Pharr, TX 78577