This is a little different start for this page, but it’s my mom’s (Dolores Stefanik Thompson) birthday. She’d be 91 today. This photograph, professionally done, surprises me, given our limited budget when it was taken in 1956. In 1956, my mom took a dime to work as a telephone operator. I had to choose between buying a Coke for lunch or using the bus to get close to home and walking the rest of the way.

Both her birthday and mine, two days later, are in September. My mom would be 22 here and looks to be in style for the time. I would be four, and I’m not demonstrating any style at all. I have pictures of her holding me as a baby, but I always liked this one. Although I could have posed as the Gerber baby and started a career as a model. For those wondering, it’s a black & white photo and then painted. Common back then, I’m told.

But it was both my parents, my dad more so, who urged me to go to law school after I got out of college and was wandering from job to job. My mom quit school at 17 to get a job, but she went back and finished high school the same year I did, 1971. So, though she finished with a program called ICS, really, we’re both part of the Class of ’71. Later, she went to college and graduated.

I didn’t find this out until after she died, when I found her diploma. She believed education was important, as did my dad. They both thought that I going to law school would be good, more so my dad. The reasoning is a separate story,

She started her career in a beauty salon, then became an operator for Ohio Bell before moving from Cleveland to the small town of Mantua to work in a bar owned by her parents (Andy and Mary Stefanik), Andy’s Bar. She would also sell real estate and, strangely enough, sold a home to a family named Livezey, moving to Mantua from New York.

That was in 1967. I remember mom telling me about the family having one daughter, and she was cute and my age. She was right about that, although the girl didn’t seem to like me all that well. But, 38 years later, I would marry the girl from New York. My mom would never know, having died six years prior, but would have been happy about it for us, and embraced the girl from New York. My dad did, although he didn’t quite make it to the wedding date either.

Even though I change this up every year, I always mention that her birthdate was also the official end of World War II. The ironic part was that my dad was being kept in Europe with the Army Air Force because of a possible invasion of Japan. The war finished for my dad on September 14 when he left Europe for the States, which is my birthday.

So, while she can’t be here for any more birthdays, each September 2, I celebrate her birthday in my heart with love.

I know John 14:6 is about Salvation, but when I pray to God, because of John 14:6, I start with, “Heavenly Father, through my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I pray…”

There’s no biblical requirement that I am aware of to do this, but there’s support for it in 1 Timothy 2:5, John 16:23, and, I believe, Romans 8:26. I do it by choice. The most important thing is to pray to have a personal relationship with God. I believe He likes hearing from us.

I just missed the anniversary of the I Have a Dream speech. I usually write something about it. I still could. Judging a person by the content of their character is noble and right. Judging by the color of their skin is neither. The racial divide appears greater today than in previous years.

Regarding the speech, the “Dream” was rejected by a close adviser to the King. It was thought to be trite. Here’s basically what happened. One of King’s close advisers and speechwriter thought the “I Have a Dream” wording was too overused. He advised against it, instead keeping the focus on economic justice and systemic inequality. A well-known gospel singer encouraged it, so in a way, you could say an essential part of one of the most important speeches in history was ad-libbed.

Here’s basically what happened. During the speech, gospel singer Mahalia Jackson, who was standing nearby, may have been bored; she reportedly urged King, “Tell them about the dream, Martin!” King had used the “I Have a Dream” theme in earlier sermons and speeches.

So, King deviated from his prepared speech. The specific phrase “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character” was part of the improvised version, meaning it was ad-libbed, as was a great deal of the speech.

How do I know all of this? I like history, but there’s more. Well, here’s the background on it. I usually write about my family taking me to Gettysburg in 1964. It’s a trip I recommend for everyone. As we were leaving, my parents said I could get two items from the gift shop.

At eleven, going on twelve, I eyed the bullets found on the battlefield, or facsimiles more likely. But I saw three parchment-type documents in the area where books were for sale. One was the Gettysburg Address, the second was John F. Kennedy’s inaugural address, and the third was King’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I decided I wanted all three, but I was limited to two. My parents probably would have sprung for the third, but kids tended to do what their parents said back then.

I knew who JFK was. I remember the aftermath of the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban Missile Crisis, a time scarier for my parents than me. I understood little about nuclear bombs except that I was safe at school if I bent forward with my head under my desk. Today I understand the lie; it was my vaporization position.

I knew who King was because once, when we were on vacation, King was leading a march, and roads were shut down for travel. So, we, like everyone else, sat in our vehicle and waited for the parade to move past, allowing the road to reopen. I’ve always told people it was Georgia, but I’m unsure today.

After reading the three, I chose the JFK address and the MLK “I Have a Dream” speech. When I got home, I framed each to hang in my bedroom. I still have both in the original frames I bought.

I’m awed by the dreams expressed in the final minutes of the speech. There were five, most everyone recalls one, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” Again, it’s noble and right. Judging by the color of their skin is neither. But the racial divide appears greater today than in previous years, and is getting worse.

Courts of late are looking to merit, as MLK spoke of. This comes now after the Biden years, a nightmare at the time, are becoming just a bad dream, but still with consequences.

On a family vacation in the early ’60s, we stayed at this place, the Glass House motel, on the Gulf of America.

Two guys stayed at the motel: Art, an outgoing guy, and Paul, a quiet one. Family accompanied both. Art would hang around with the other kids; Paul sat in a lounge chair by the pool. He was quiet, more serious, maybe cerebral.

One day, Art and I went for a walk down the beach. He bought me a milkshake down at the pier. He was about ten years older than me, but he looked close to my age. In fact, at the time I thought we were the same age.

So, this was my introduction to Simon & Garfunkel. As can be seen, Garfunkel was the more friendly of the two. They performed at a local venue at night, so they were free during the day. A couple of unknowns to me, and by then I was hooked on the Top 40 stations at home.

Now Art asked me if I knew Mitch Ryder & the Detroit Wheels. Not sure why he asked, but I lied and said I did. Maybe he asked because Mitch was from Detroit, and I lived close to Cleveland back then. But Mitch wasn’t well known. The group gained fame opening for the Dave Clark Five at the time.

There was no reason to lie, but I suspect it inspired Art to step up his game. While Mitch Ryder would have a number of hits, hitting the charts before Simon & Garfunkel, I never heard much of Mitch Ryder later. It wasn’t long after parting ways that Simon & Garfunkel became well-known with “The Sounds of Silence.”

When Art was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, he didn’t mention my name, but I could tell he was remembering the day at the pier, drinking a milkshake, learning the ins and outs of the music world. I’m convinced to this day my quiet demeanor inspired the song. It was, “my words like silent raindrops fell / And echoed in the wells of silence.”

The motel on the postcard was a great place. The only other thing I remember is playing hosted games in the evening with three other kids who were about my age. Two were twins that didn’t look alike, and the third is a footnote story in my life.

Imagine a parent dealing with a teenager who just broke a house rule. Maybe they came home way past curfew or were caught lying about something. The parent is understandably angry. But this calls on the parent to respond without harsh punishment or rage. That doesn’t mean no discipline. We will never have the abounding mercy of God, but we should try.

I fail often. I say things I should regret, and I seem to do it too many times. While God should slam the door shut on me, He doesn’t. He corrects, but with mercy. He gives me free will to do it, but He continues to work with me.

It’s kind of like a garden. I’m a plant in the garden. God tends it. He sees me, the plant that hasn’t fully bloomed while those around me have. Instead of pulling me like a weed, He waters me with nourishment. He continues to tend to me. That would be Him cultivating me.

Some will say I’m not saved by words above. My faith secures it for me. I may lose rewards, but not salvation. Someday, I will meet the ideals of the Psalm, not to the extent of God, but better than I am now.

But here’s something worth holding onto: awareness is not weakness, it’s the beginning of transformation. The fact that you know I’m failing means my conscience is alive, my spirit is still striving, and grace is still working.

My prayer:

Lord, thank You for Your mercy that never runs dry. Thank You for being patient with me when I fall short. Help me to reflect Your grace in how I treat others. Cultivate my heart like a garden, pull the weeds, water the roots, and grow me into who You’ve called me to be. I trust in Your love, even when I don’t deserve it. Amen.