I can't remember the names of all seven of Snow White's dwarfs. I don't feel bad about that. But I do remember one. Grumpy. I've heard that the Grumpy shirt is one of Disney's big sellers.

I might know why. Grumpy's the mood of a whole lot of Americans these days.

Take the one-year-to-go state of the Presidential race. It doesn't matter if a politician is a Democrat or a Republican - most people are not very excited about anybody. We've got one group who wants us to stop spending money. Then there are some who want people to stop making money. Some don't like what the President's doing. Some don't like what Congress is doing. Many are not all that impressed with any candidate so far.

A few days ago, Penn State was just one college of many with a powerful football program. This past week, it's suddenly become the epicenter of a whole lot of outrage.

There are the screaming students, angry that Joe Paterno, their iconic coach - the "winningest" college coach ever - had been summarily fired. Then there are the parents, politicians and pundits who are enraged - as they should be - at young lives ruined by sexual abuse. Allegedly by an assistant coach who used a locker room as a place to horribly exploit young boys.

I was just doing the math. At one point in time, we had one grandchild. I couldn't believe my wife was old enough to be a grandmother! But then - within a matter of years, that one has become eight grandchildren!

But that's nothin'. In that same period of time, a billion more people have joined us on this planet. And this week, our "global village" just changed the population sign from six billion to seven billion.

When you're a kid, you're wet cement. Impressions get written so easily - and so deeply. Then they harden into the beliefs - or unbeliefs - of that kid-become-adult. Apparently, Steve Jobs was no exception.

Apple's communications genius/revolutionary, has been described as "intriguing, yet inscrutable." But as he battled cancer, he opened some windows into his mind and soul to the author writing his life story. According to the new biography that bears his name, Steve Jobs studied Zen Buddhism for years. A recent article in USA Today said, "He never went back to church after he saw a photo of starving children on the cover of Life and asked his Sunday school pastor if God knew what would happen to them. He was 13 at the time."

Shades of the '60s. Lots of angry, discontented young people, occupying public places, trying to call attention to their cause. I think we've seen this before.

The '60s demonstrations were about a war, and they turned more violent. The 2011 crowds are occupying high-profile public areas - like Wall Street, for example - around the world. And with a different cause. They claim they're protesting about jobs, corporate greed, concentrated wealth and economic injustice. Only time will tell whether this will be a game-changer or a loud blip on the screen.

So I felt a little rejected when they chose teams for softball. Yup. Last one chosen. Poor me. And how about the time when I was the only one on the hayride without a date.

I feel a little ashamed of some of those "poor me" flashbacks when I read about those girls in India. Hundreds of them whose actual names mean "unwanted" in Hindi. Every day of their lives they've answered to the name "unwanted." Some of them got the name simply because they were a disappointment when they were born. Whatever the reason, "unwanted" is a horrible way to be branded for life.

The image of a burning candle on an iPad. That's the kind of memorial some folks have come with to honor Steve Jobs after his death this week. How appropriate. He was the inventive genius and innovator marketer who brought the communications revolution from the "geekosphere" to something you could hold in your hand.

Bill Gates has described Steve Jobs' impact as "profound." News anchors are quick to say he "changed the world." Yes, he did. He was always a newsmaker when he walked on the Apple stage to introduce technology's "what's next?".

But now with Steve Jobs' passing, I find myself asking "what's next?" on a much deeper level. What's next on the other side of our last heartbeat, when the obituaries and tributes are for us?

Sometimes I find the news disturbing. Occasionally, it's enlightening. And once in a very great while, it's moving. Today was one of those days.

It was hard to not be moved when 24-year-old Amanda Knox learned her fate in an Italian courtroom. While she's been in prison for the past four years, convicted of the murder of her roommate, the credibility of much of the evidence has unraveled. Her appeal reached its crescendo as that black-robed judge announced the jury's decision. Because she's learned a lot of Italian during her incarceration, she understood his words. Especially the one word she was desperate to hear.

"If people who don't know Jesus want to know the difference Jesus makes, let them come to our funerals."

A friend told me that years ago. I thought of it again this week as I joined one of our dear friends in mourning the loss of his precious wife. They've poured out their lives for others in one of this world's very troubled places. Because of the violence around them, one of their little daughter's first words was "rocket." But a year ago the bomb that changed everything was one word in a doctor's office - "cancer." Last week, after a brave fight against that killer, Nancy breathed her last. And that little daughter, now a beautiful young woman who so mirrors her mother, sang at Nancy's memorial service - with a glow that defied the grief...

I've got a grandson who loves to play "hide and seek." I haven't told him that I'm pretty much onto his favorite places to hide in our house. But he's figured out the best places to become totally invisible when I'm looking for him.

But being invisible isn't always fun. There are people - including someone who told me just this week - who have basically felt invisible their whole lives. You can feel invisible in your family...at school...where you work...even in your marriage. It's awful feeling like no one seems to know - or care - that you're there.