Dear Justin -

I'm a grandfather. I've got six grandsons - can't believe it! One is almost your age.

So when I read about your speeding trouble and saw you in a jail jumpsuit last week, my grandfather's heart was sad.

I know you've gotten it all from people. Affection. Attack. Sympathetic. Snarky.

We'll put up with a lot from our politicians. But not everything.

We really don't like it when someone in power abuses that power. For personal gain. Personal revenge. Covering up wrongdoing. Or exploiting other people.

Right now, one former governor is in the news for allegedly using his position to feather his own financial nest. And accusations are flying about another governor who some say used his power to punish or intimidate. So far, no evidence that proves the accusations. But accusations are sometimes all it takes to turn public opinion.

This year's flu is just plain nasty. And dangerous. My doctor told me he's really concerned about how high the death toll is in our state this early in the season.

Last night, a friend texted and said, "It's time for me to descend into the nightly coughing abyss." We've had some family members spend some time in that abyss - so we know what they're talking about.

One thing that's unusual this year is the number of younger people who are dying from the flu. One reason, they say, may be that only about 30% of those in the 25-50 age group have gotten a flu shot.

Well, Pope Francis has done it again. Been the kind of normal human that's made him almost rock star popular with the press.

He was doing infant baptisms in the reverent environs of the Sistine Chapel - where the princes of the Church elected him Pope. He said that, while the singing of the choirs was wonderful, the cries of the babies made the most beautiful music in the room.

Then he did that "human" thing again. In essence, he said, "If your baby is hungry, Mother, go ahead and feed him." In the Sistine Chapel.

I'm standing a few days into a brand new year. Having a lot in common with a guy from the 1st Century B.C.

Actually, a Roman officer, leading his men on a mission that took them into uncharted territory. Back then, mapmakers drew dragons beyond the line of what was known.

So, from "dragonland," the commander dispatched a courier back to headquarters with an urgent message. Which is where I cross paths with this ancient warrior.

Guest Column By Lisa Hutchcraft Whitmer

It happened on a little girl's Thanksgiving. It has changed that grown-up girl's Christmas. I am - or was - that little girl.

My parents sat our family down in the living room. To tell us that we didn't have much money - so we wouldn't be having a Thanksgiving meal. I remember we all got on our knees and prayed together as a family. My memories of that conversation - and those prayers - are permanently stamped in my memory.

It's on virtually every newscast, here and around the world. The death of Nelson Mandela. First Black president of South Africa - where the 90% Black majority had never had the right to vote. Or many other basic human rights, for that matter.

Four American Presidents, the head of the United Nations, the leaders of scores of nations - they will all be there this week to honor him at his memorial service.

But beyond all the tributes of the powerful, Nelson Mandela has a message for me.

About how to be truly free.

Because what changed his nation can help change ours. It can change a family. A feud. A fractured relationship.

The headlines are about a movie star dying. But Paul Walker was a lot more.

For those familiar with the "Fast and Furious" movies he was famous for, his death was especially jarring. Because of the way he died - a high-speed accident, the exotic race car exploding in flames. Eerily reminiscent of the movies that made him famous.

But now, in the days following the initial shock, people are focusing on Paul Walker the man, not just the movie star.

There is no bargain known to man that would entice me to camp out overnight in a frigid store parking lot.

Or risk the only body I have in a stampede of wild-eyed bargain-hunters.  

So the annual “running of the bulls” – otherwise known as Black Friday – will have to go on without me.

Okay, it probably sounds a little cheesy, but you just had to be there.

My wife gave each member of our family a colorful piece of paper on Thanksgiving Day.  On it, an acrostic of the word Thanksgiving, with the letters down the side.

Our “before we can eat” assignment (a powerful motivator) was to list by each letter an “I’m thankful for” that started with that letter.  Then we talked about them.  Not for real long.  We could smell the turkey.