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The wind in my face was bitterly cold in downtown Dallas a few years ago. My continuing education classes had ended at the seminary in nearby Ft. Worth, so the afternoon was free for some sightseeing. A chill came over me independent of the temperature when I walked onto Dealey Plaza and saw firsthand those sights emblazoned in my memory: Elm Street, the triple overpass and the sixth floor window. I thought back to that terrible Friday in November, 1963. Our class had just returned from lunch...
A colleague told about her daughter scooping up the snow in her hands and eating it. Her mom told her not to do this since the snow had dirt and grass in it. The little girl, recently diagnosed with diabetes and pretty adept at watching carbs, said, "But mommy, snow doesn't have any carbs!" Her mom relented and told her to enjoy this treat. This story reminded me of a childhood long ago when we were warned not to eat snow cream--a concoction our parents made with snow, sugar and milk. The...