LINES MATTER…
Body
The other day, as Freida and I headed to Dallas to celebrate our grandson completing his first trip around the Sun, a thought struck me. And that thought had to do with the center stripe painted on the highway — a line directing my path, signaling me not to stray across it without taking precautions. Then other lines holding sway over our daily lives came to mind. Lines like the one we sign our name on to pay a bill, or take title to a home, or apply for a fishing license. And there’s the line Johnny Cash sang about in “I Walk the Line.” Staying true to that course through five decades of wedded life has been my joy. And then there are lines such as Col. William Travis drew in the Alamo’s dust after Santa Ana demanded surrender or death. Roughly 200 brave Texans stepped over that line, thus entering history as slain heroes. That’s when lines on a map, boundary lines to be precise, gripped me.