Even the reporters are choked up. What the monster tornado tore up in Moore, Oklahoma is tearing at our hearts.

Houses gone. Neighborhoods gone. Schools gone. Children. Gone.

People wandering the streets "like zombies," trying to figure out where their house was. Parents waiting in the mud, looking for some shred of hope that their child is somehow alive beneath the rubble of their school. Children in shelters, wondering if they'll ever see their parents again.

Even the reporters are choked up. What the monster tornado tore up in Moore, Oklahoma is tearing at our hearts.

Houses gone. Neighborhoods gone. Schools gone. Children. Gone.

People wandering the streets "like zombies," trying to figure out where their house was. Parents waiting in the mud, looking for some shred of hope that their child is somehow alive beneath the rubble of their school. Children in shelters, wondering if they'll ever see their parents again.

The photos, the stories, the video images - they defy words. Some of them have struck a pretty deep chord in my heart.

Like the team from Joplin, Missouri, hurrying to help people in a way only they can. Two years ago, it was part of their town that vanished in the deadliest twister ever. They know how having your world erased in a moment feels.

It's strange. The worst things that happen to us become the compassion and comfort we have to treat other wounded people. Those who've been hurt become heroes of healing for others who are bleeding.

Somehow our pain has meaning when we can use it rebuild someone else's life. I call it crud-entials. How the crud of your life qualifies you to help a hurting world.

I was touched, too, by the directive given by the rescuers at the leveled Plaza Towers Elementary School. Knowing there were children in that rubble, the first responders asked everyone to be quiet. "So we can listen for voices."

That's what I want to be better at. Stopping the chatter so I can listen for the voices of people in trouble.

They're all around us. If we have ears to hear their cries.

I've got a lot of friends in law enforcement. They don't usually show a lot of emotion. But the Cleveland police chief said today: "Yes, law enforcement people do cry."

I've got a lot of friends in law enforcement. They don't usually show a lot of emotion. But the Cleveland police chief said today: "Yes, law enforcement people do cry."

I think some of them did. When three women, missing for a decade, were suddenly found alive. They'd been imprisoned in a nondescript house by a man who kidnapped them years ago. And living horrors we may never fully know.

The first time my dad shamed me into riding a roller coaster, I couldn't wait to get off. Roller coasters aren't always fun.

This week, Tim Tebow's roller coaster ride took a serious dive. When he came to the New York Jets a year ago, he was the toast of the town. Then they barely played him. This week, they released him. And as of right now, there are no guarantees another team will pick him up.

It's been a wild ride for the quarterback known for his trademark - one-knee "Tebowing" prayer. Heisman Trophy winner as America's outstanding college player. Called on mid-season to quarterback the faltering Denver Broncos - and leading them to the playoffs. Drafted to play in the "Big Apple."

Then "see ya!" from the Jets.

You know something huge has happened when my Yankees are playing the Red Sox fans' favorite song - at Yankee Stadium! When leaders from both political parties are saying, "Today there are no Democrats or Republicans."

That's what happened when bombs suddenly rained death and destruction on the Boston Marathon. The shock waves reached around the world. And brought back to my heart an all-too-familiar wave of sadness.

I was 12 - on a Southern vacation with my folks. I've never forgotten those signs I saw on the bathrooms.

"Colored." "White."

We didn't have those signs in the racially mixed neighborhood where I grew up. So I didn't have a file folder for "colored" and "white."

Jackie Robinson did. As America's first Black baseball player in the Major Leagues, the baseball field was a battlefield. Before President Truman integrated the military. Before Rosa Parks. Before Dr. King.

I was 12 - on a Southern vacation with my folks. I've never forgotten those signs I saw on the bathrooms.

"Colored." "White."

We didn't have those signs in the racially mixed neighborhood where I grew up. So I didn't have a file folder for "colored" and "white."

I've never understood why theater folks tell a performer to "break a leg" just before they go on stage. Seems like the last thing you'd want to do when you're performing. If it's supposed to be some whacked form of "good luck," I think I'm missing something here.

Breaking a leg at the college basketball championships is a really bad idea. That NCAA Tournament - known for some strange reason as "The Big Dance" - is coming down to the final two games.

One team many expected to be there was the Louisville Cardinals. But then, in the must-win game to play for the Final Four, Louisville got a very bad break. Literally.

Their star guard, Kevin Ware, suddenly went down with a season-ending injury. A leg so badly broken that reporters insist on calling it "gruesome." The bone protruding some six inches. Networks deciding to quit showing the excruciating moment when it happened. Louisville's veteran coach wiping tears from his eyes. Players on the floor in tears.

I'm used to turning on the news and hearing about bullets or ballots or budgets.

But the Bible? Pinch yourself, Ron - the Bible is one of the lead stories on newscast after newscast today. Well, actually "The Bible." The ten-hour History Channel mini-series that has stunned everybody with its blockbuster ratings, especially among young viewers.

There were epic moments from Noah's Ark to the parting of the Red Sea to David decking Goliath.