Read other articles in this series: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5
In the fifth grade I started playing the trumpet in the school band. Well, that’s not entirely true. In the fifth grade I started making awful, brassy noises that could only loosely be called “playing.” But, I learned about musical notation, which fingers to push down, tuning, breathing, and all the fundamentals needed to actually play a trumpet. It was often boring and time-consuming–and sometimes painful (you don’t know what buzzing your lips together in a small brass bowl can do to you until you have tried to do it for an hour straight). Continue reading
A man was arrested for murder. He didn’t set out to kill anyone, just to get some extra cash to pay the rent. But, the convenience store clerk went for a weapon under the counter, and the thief fired the handgun he brought for the robbery before he could suppress his defensive instincts. 

If I had a nickel for every time this Berenstain Bears scene played out in our home growing up (only my brother didn’t usually wear pink…). “Clean your room” were probably three of the most common words from our mother’s mouth. Though, a close second would be the three words she often shouted as she held a raised wooden spoon in her right hand: “Move your hands!”