Baltimore Boomer

An unusually mild January nonetheless left me chilled, by too many deaths.

I experienced my first sacrament April 10, 1955, at St. Rose of Lima in Brooklyn. Father T. Austin Murphy did the honors, seven years before he became an auxiliary bishop for the diocese.

You have to live in a cave not to know a family or three who have lost a loved one to the opioid epidemic,  but for me, the violence infesting and dragging down Baltimore has never hit closer.

Managing Editor Paul McMullen is in a stretch of work that’s reminded him why his hometown is also described as “Smalltimore.”

It’s been three weeks since a man with a grudge and a rifle shot down the doorway to the Annapolis Capital and murdered five of its employees, among them two colleagues. Every one of those 21 days has been required to process the mysteries of life and what can only be described as survivor’s guilt.

Whatever happens, darkness at the break of 2:48 p.m. Aug. 21 is going to be another grand moment with creation.