Faith

  • Recently, my publisher reached out and alerted me to a blog contest they thought I should enter. The theme was anything Christmas-related, be it holiday traditions or an original story. I chose to write an original story. It’s short, somewhat poignant, but ends well. I hope you enjoy it. The Roadside Oasis by Michael DeStefano

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  • My Humble Christmas Offering

    For years, I wanted to write a short story in the vein of Robert Lawson’s Rabbit Hill, but with a Fielding theme and a Dickensian vibe. It was one of those projects I thought would remain a wish—an ambition to stimulate my mind on long car trips and sleepless nights, but would never come to

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  • This past Friday morning, while spending time with a client, something occurred to me. It moved me enough to say, “Jim, if it were thirty-five years ago, before diving into business, we would have discussed last night’s Seinfeld episode.” The exchange that Jim and I would’ve had all those years ago would not have been

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  • Eternity’s Corridor

         It was upon a summer’s breeze that the echoes from a forest beckoned a young lass. Often, from the confines of her mother’s garden or with her elbows resting on her bedroom windowsill, she had wondered about the wood just yonder did our golden-haired youth but never had she ventured into its denseness. Today,

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  • If there was ever a question that put enough meat on the bone to end world hunger, it’s how would I reshape the modern world? Sheesh! Some thought experiments are like Metamucil to a teenager who, the night before, drank a six-pack. However, I shall limit myself to two thoughts. I was a child of

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  • Bottoms Up!

    Ever since the advent of the twenty-four-hour-a-day cable news cycle, America has altered her visual trajectory: we no longer look inward at are communities; all eyes, since the late 1990s, are focused on Washington D.C.; it’s up with macro and down with micro. The result? Communities have gone uncared for, reduced to localities our houses

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  • Two For the Price of One

    Winning streaks, sunny days, my wife agreeing with me, not hitting a bridge opening en route to work, my son both recognizing and concurring with my logic, my Maltese unfailingly depositing his bodily secretions onto the wee-wee mat, my market holdings trending upward: The abovementioned mark matters I would appreciate marching along in a procession

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