For some inexplicable reason, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage is under the impression that my favorite hobby is flying kites. I have no idea where she got that notion. Last Thursday, for example, she said to me in one of her sterner voices, "Why don't you just go and fly a kite?"

The joke, of course, is on her.  Ha! That is not my hobby and I have not flown a kite since I was nine years old when my mother made the same request. Who does she think I am? Benjamin Franklin? If she actually knew what my hobby was, I wonder if she would be so anxious for me to indulge. Some secrets are worth keeping.

Two things guide me in my pursuit of life.

I never fool around with fate and I never second-guess the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage.

She suggested on Friday evening that we go out for supper. When younger I would have tried to figure out if she was up to something or if I was in some trouble, but not anymore. One of the great advantages of growing older is shedding the ne

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