The President sat bolt upright in his bed. He scanned the dark room for any signs of movement, his eyes adjusting slowly.
“It’s me, Donald,” a voice said. A shadow on the wall started moving toward him, stopping right at the side of his bed. “It’s Ronald Reagan.”
I was walking on the beach with Jesus when scenes from my life started flashing before me. There were two sets of footprints for each scene, except for when I was very low and very sad. Then there was only one set.
Once upon a time, there was an orange. He was a very grumpy orange. Everyday, he woke up in the morning and grumped about in his big white house.
Wow, 2016 was a crazy year for the Miller Family!
I wouldn’t call my memory “reliable.” Fortunately for me, I married a woman who is capable of remembering things pretty much as they happened. Which is good because there’s a story I’ve been wanting to tell for a while now, I just didn’t trust myself to get it right. So, here’s Cathy, telling the story of how we finally ended up together. And just a word of warning: it turns out she’s much better at this than I am:
I moved back in with my parents when I was 21. I’m not proud of it but that’s the way it goes.
One of the cool things about being in band — bear with me, I know that’s not a promising opening line — is you get to compete.
Picture a telephone pole. Got it? Now add a mustache. That was my band director, Steven J. Tribble.
Lock Haven has this thing called Millbrook Playhouse. It’s an old, converted barn with a smaller, cabaret-style theater attached. Every summer, dozens of talented singers and actors come to Millbrook from New York City to pad their resumes. It’s called Summer Stock. It happens every summer in small towns all across the middle Atlantic and New England states.
Do you know that Milan, Italy has two airports? I do. Do you want to know how I know that?