The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Tuesday, September 13, 2005

An Answer

My hands still smell like Play-Doh.

Tonight, I went to a dinner for some victims of the hurricane. There weren't really a lot of people there, in fact, there were a lot more people there wanting to help than needed help.

Towards the end of the night, I was playing with some Play-Doh with a little boy who was probably about 7 or 8. He made all these different shapes, but mostly just flattened the Play-Doh. He just mashed the blue puddy into a pancake. When I asked him what he made, he had a simple answer.

"It's my house."


Blogger shauna said...

i'm assuming that person in the pink dress is not the boy you played with . . .

sorry ,. . kidding. .

that is a touching story. wow. i would probably burst into tears. i have heard some stories already secondhand . . . gut-wrenching. i feel so overwhelmed with everything . . . like i wish i could just take away their pain.

8:54 AM  

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