They're the guys who wear dark glasses, talk to their wrist, and wear that trademark stone face. They're the almost legendary Secret Service agents who guard the life of the President of the United States.

But even the President himself was joking about them the other night at the White House Correspondents' Dinner. He said, "I had more to say, but I have to get the Secret Service back before their new curfew."

Wives love to get their husbands to weddings. Hopefully, the love-feast will jumpstart a little romance in the old boy's soul. I saw a lot of hand-holding and sitting close last weekend when Jimmy and Tanya got married. It works, girls!

I had a ringside seat on it all. Actually, a ringside stand. I was doing the honors, marrying a young couple I think the world of. My "Kodak moment" was watching that googly-eyed groom as he watched his beautiful bride coming down the aisle.

Our grandson's gaining weight, and is he ever going to be glad! (Unlike his grandfather who finds weight gain depressing). Yes, soon he will be 20 pounds. And that means his parents will turn his car seat around. No more looking out the rear window.

And that's a great feeling. You don't have to keep looking back at where you've already been. It's all about looking at where you're going now.

That's a change that's good news for even us grown up kids. Turning your "seat" around. Moving past the depressing view you get when you keep looking back at where you've been. Especially when what you see is the hits, the hurts and the hard times in your past. Every time I look through that window, clouds roll in and cover the sun. If I look back a lot, I'll end up looking down even more.

If you're a mayor, you're used to taking the heat. But not the flames.

But last weekend, that's exactly what Newark, N.J. Mayor Cory Booker did. To save his next door neighbor.

Booker arrived home at his apartment to find one of his security detail knocking on the door of the building next door to warn them that the second floor was on fire. The officer managed to get two women and a man out of the building. But one of the women told the mayor and his security men that her daughter Zina was still upstairs.

Can't find the trophy though. I think the last time I saw it, it was broken. That's the problem with trophies. Just ask the University of Alabama football team. They won it all this year - including the national champion trophy. It's a $30,000 Waterford crystal football. Well, it was.

We know about the iceberg. And the lifeboats. Even the wreckage and debris two miles under the ocean.

But with a blockbuster movie and all the Titanic TV specials, we probably won't be hearing about the lists. Not the first, second and third class passenger lists from when the voyage began. But the two lists that emerged when the Titanic went down. As it turns out, the only lists that mattered.

There's just something about the Titanic. Yes, the ship sank - but it seems our fascination with it is unsinkable. And that includes me.

So many stories. So many life lessons. But in the many moving stories of that horrible, haunting night, there's one that just blows me away. One passenger - John Harper. A man whose life and choices during those three fateful hours still give me goosebumps.

John Harper was a Scottish pastor...a widower with a six-year-old daughter...a man who'd been invited to preach at Chicago's prestigious Moody Memorial Church. It was April 1912. And it just so happened that a ship - the new world wonder, named Titanic, was sailing for America. John Harper booked passage for himself, along with his daughter Nina and her aunt.

Sometimes the Bible makes me laugh out loud. This past weekend, reading the Easter story, it happened again.

They're about to bury Jesus in a borrowed tomb. Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, issues this command to his soldiers: "Make it as secure as you know how" (Matthew 27:65).

That has to be - at least in retrospect - the dumbest order in history.

Use a really big rock. Put on a really strong seal. Post some really intimidating guards.

You gotta feel bad for the youngest child. There's a thousand pictures of the firstborn - "hey, we've never had one of these before!" Maybe 300 or 400 of the secondborn. Possibly 30 of the final arrival. Oh, we loved him just as much. We just didn't have as many pictures of him. Probably because his brother and sister wore us out.

When we watched our family movies each Christmas, young one wouldn't stay for long. But every once in a while, he'd poke his head in and ask, "Am I in it yet?" He got a lot done while he was waiting.

Yesterday, my pastor was talking about the donkey Jesus rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. My mind wandered (not the pastor's fault) to a horse I met one day in Texas.

I was recording my youth broadcast with a live teenage audience on a Texas cattle ranch. I asked if they could arrange a horse for city boy Ron to ride, so I could record one segment on horseback. Two adjectives defined my equine request - "old and harmless." Dressed in a cowboy hat and chaps - all photos have been burned - I mounted the steed they'd found for me.

I should have asked his name sooner. See, this town had a monster tornado some years ago. Wanna guess my horse's name? Yup. Tornado. And there was no turning back.