The goal was to be on the road by 10 a.m. By 9:45, we were pulling out of our Richmond driveway.
Earlier that morning, I commiserated with our next door neighbor whose family was heading to Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. While our destination was Topsail Island, North Carolina, we both would be at the whims of I-95.
From Maine to Florida, I-95, America’s east coast interstate, eagerly awaited us.
No matter how many attempts designers and engineers with expertise in road construction and traffic control have made to improve this connector of cities and states, in a blink I-95 can become a nightmare.
We did pretty well until 12 noon. That’s when my Commander Supreme’s phone turned bright red.
Slowed traffic on I-95 (Photo Bill Pike)
It wasn’t long before both southbound lanes began a slow crawl down the overheated road surface. We heard no sirens from emergency vehicles. Saw no flashing blue lights from state troopers rushing along the breakdown lane. No flashing signs telling drivers to move into the left lane. No tow truck drivers with yellow lights flashing following the state troopers.
No, what caused this two lane backup was a broken down tractor trailer in the travel lane. Apparently, the truck decided to die in such a way that the driver was not able to coax the monster into the breakdown lane.
Eventually, we worked our way off the interstate to a maze of North Carolina highways that with the correct turns would lead us on to Topsail Island. I can tell you this—I wouldn’t recommend making this drive in the dark of night.
The further east we drove into the coastal plain the deeper you move away from what I take for granted in Richmond.
Way out here, drugstores and storage units are not on every corner. There is no sprawl.
Much of what drivers see in these tiny communities are single, stand alone businesses— a Family Dollar store, a service station at an intersection, and an occasional non-chain restaurant.
Interestingly, we did pass multiple churches, sometimes a school, lots of trailers, and large plots of farmland with corn, soybeans, tobacco, and cotton. It was clear that North Carolina like Virginia is in the midst of a significant drought.
The impact of the drought was most notable with the corn. The corn was parched, stunted by the lack of rain. The corn’s normal lush green has been baked by the sun squeezing out its internal moisture and fading the green.
Hopefully, the drought will gradually resolve itself without too much hurt to farmers and consumers.
On the last miles before the beach, the real challenge for me is trying to figure out why we have been unable to solve and stop the generational cycles of poverty.
All along this route, I see weary looking house trailers. Abandoned, overgrown, houses dot the landscape too. I wonder how many families on either side of the road are barely hanging on? Do they feel any betrayal from the politicians they have supported over the years? Why can’t we break these cycles?
As we approach Surf City on Topsail Island, the traffic lights are blinking red. Trained volunteers are placed at these critical intersections. The volunteers had the challenge of directing all of us crazed tourists before we crossed the intercostal waterway on the Surf City Bridge.
Once over the bridge, we worked our way around the traffic circle to our exit. We drove a short distance before we hooked a left on Raleigh Avenue followed by a quick right on to South Shore Drive. A few more feet, and we arrived at our home for the week—Sitting In The Sand.
Hot, humid air greeted us. Unloading cars started.
Members of our family who were scheduled to arrive on Saturday made it safely.
As we settled in, plans were made to visit the beach and order pizza for dinner.
The house appears to be perfect for our needs. The restless Atlantic Ocean will be in our sight lines all week.
And, I’ll have lots of time to ponder my generational poverty question.
I haven’t forgotten my first visit to Virginia Tech.
In the late 1970s, on a beautiful fall afternoon, a friend, a Tech graduate, with whom I taught at Martinsville Jr. High School, took me to a football game.
Even then, I sensed there was something unique about this outstanding university. Years later, that admiration continued. Our oldest daughter is a successful graduate and diehard Hokie.
As an old North Carolina boy, I cheered when Tech entered the Atlantic Coast Conference. Academically and geographically, this was a win for the conference.
Photo of my Virginia Tech hat (Bill Pike)
Despite this affection for a university that has impacted the world beyond Blacksburg’s town limits, I do not understand the school’s relentless pursuit of becoming a dominant player in college athletics.
The recent anonymous gift of $75 million dollars to the school is an example of this quest. I appreciate the donor’s twofold focus with the gift benefiting the school’s athletic department and honors program.
However, there are no guarantees that using these millions to buy the best players, coaches, and building state of the art athletic facilities equals automatic national championships.
Founded as a “land-grant” university in 1872, I wonder how many of Virginia Tech’s “land-grant” peers are consumed by this same push for athletic prominence?
My guess is Virginia Tech’s new football coach, James Franklin, is publicly thrilled with this financial gift.
However, I can only begin to imagine the pressure he must feel to quickly develop his team into a national powerhouse.
Speaking of pressure, does the university’s leadership feel any of that stress to succeed?
If Virginia Tech’s athletic department squanders this investment, other than a coach, who will be held accountable?
Where does that accountability apply to the $95 million in debt that the athletic department already has?
The world was less complicated on my first visit to Virginia Tech.
And yet, I suspect the “lunch pail” in Lane Stadium knows this wisdom from Seneca: “It is not the man who has too little, but the man who craves more, that is poor.”
Hokies, I hope your craving works out.
Bill Pike, Richmond
Note from author: I am always honored when a piece I submit to a newspaper is published. This letter to the editor was published in the Sunday, July 19, 2026 edition of the Roanoke Times. I have many dear friends who are graduates from Virginia Tech. I apologize if the letter offends you. My goal was not to offend. The goal was to ponder one more example of how money continues to rule college sports.
The extreme heat warning was first issued for Richmond, Virginia on Thursday, July 2, 2026.
Two days later on Saturday, July 4, the extreme heat warning was still in place.
When I left for my run that Saturday morning, the temperature was 77 degrees, humidity 88%, dew point, 73 degrees, and wind out of the south at 3 mph. If you moved an inch in any direction on this miserably uncomfortable morning, you were guaranteed to perspire.
For the next 35:49, that’s all I did. When I finished my run, I was drenched. No part of my old sack of bones was dry.
Despite these conditions, I saw walkers, a couple of runners, and neighbors walking their dogs. One neighbor said to me that he was simply trying to beat the heat.
The only way to beat the heat on a day like this is to hope that you have an air conditioned home.
Despite the heat, I did enjoy my run.
Yes, I said I enjoyed my run.
It is always an enjoyable run if I spot a bluebird.
This morning near the end of the service road that runs parallel to Westham Parkway, a bluebird briefly zoomed in front of me. Just like the blue on a blue crab, there is nothing like the blue of a bluebird.
Bluebirds are so flitty. Rarely do these pretty birds stay in one spot. Any movement causes them to quickly exit.
Once I was back home, I was fortunate to see another favorite bird the gold finch. This was my first spotting of the summer. Two of these bright yellow birds were enjoying a breakfast of coneflower seeds.
Even though the harsh, bitter cold of our 2026 winter is gone. Winter in a very small way is still hanging around our neighborhood.
On this run, there is an unusual intersection. Brookside Road and Bryn Mawr Road empty out on to Westham Parkway. There are three stop signs, one for each road.
Where those roads intersect, I find the remnants of winter.
To try to help drivers gain traction on our ice covered roads, snowplow drivers sometimes spread a mixture of salt with tiny granules of gravel and sand. As winter melted away, those particles of gravel and sand with the help of wind, rain, and car tires have worked their way down Brookside and Bryn Mawr.
The grit of winter still hanging around (Photo Bill Pike)
Unless we have a succession of cloud bursting showers, I don’t think this left over grit from winter is going to be leaving the flat area of this intersection.
I admire the grittiness of these tiny particles of sand and gravel. They have endured a harsh winter, the energy of spring, and the stubborn heat and humidity of summer.
Who knows some day, they might be washed into Westham Creek and flow into Westhampton Lake on the campus of the University of Richmond.
From there it is conceivable to flow over the spillway by the student commons heading toward the Kanawha Canal, the James River, and the Atlantic Ocean. I can only begin to imagine such a journey.
But, it is also possible that most of the gritty particles will stay put. They will not be swept away by rainwater, blown by the wind, or dispersed by the friction from car tires.
Deep in what’s left of my old brain, I compare those grains of sand and gravel to people. People who stand at the intersection of their lives.
Maybe they are trying to figure out a new direction in life.
Maybe they are worn and frazzled by the daily struggles they encounter.
Maybe they are weary from being run over by the meanness of life, the struggle to find stability and success.
Maybe they are in a vicious generational cycle full of instability and constant failures.
Maybe, they are in need of hope, grace, and mercy.
Maybe, they just need someone to reach out to them.
Someone to listen without judging.
Someone to acknowledge that despite the burdens they are carrying, these people at the intersection of life do matter, and the struggles in their lives matter.
To them hope, grace, and mercy might be just as flitty and unattainable as a streaking bluebird or gold finch.
1 Thessalonians Chapter 5 verse 11 offers these simple words of wisdom: “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other.”
At church, this past Sunday, I spent a few minutes talking with one of our older members. When I asked him how he was doing, the dedicated husband and father talked about his wife.
For many years, his wife has been impacted by the devastation of Alzheimer’s disease. Recently, her conditions took a turn for the worse.
This change necessitated a different living arrangement. His wife needed more around the clock care. He told me how much he missed having his wife with him.
In these difficult circumstances, I attempted to follow the guidance from 1 Thessalonians Chapter 5 verse 11, but I’m certain my words were way off the mark. His sadness is breaking his heart.
If you are looking for a good piece of fiction to read, I recommend The Correspondent by Virginia Evans.
The book focuses on Sybil Van Antwerp. Sybil was an accomplished attorney who uses her letter writing to try and make sense of her life and the world around her.
In a letter she wrote to Larry McMurtry, the author of Lonesome Dove, she states: “and I suppose, back then, I was reading fiction in search of assurances that there was still a reason for hope.”
Clearly, I’m not the brightest grump in this old world, but at the challenging crossroads and troublesome intersections of life isn’t that what we are searching to find—just a tiny grain of hope?
In the miserable heat and humidity of another summer in the South, might the gritty remnants of a weary winter give us a bit of hope?
And I wonder what might give that much needed hope to those trapped in the crossroads and intersections of an unstable life?
I think the answer depends how much you, me, we, us can put into action these words: “encourage one another and build up each other.”
CHANGING THE CRAFT Stone Brewery’s closure and Legend’s pivot: What’s next for Virginia craft beer? | Guest column BILL PIKE Jun 29, 2026
Thanks to Times-Dispatch reporters Sean Jones and Eric Kolenich for reporting about changes in Richmond’s craft brewing community.
Recently, stories about the closing of Stone’s brewery and a shift in the brewing process at Legend Brewery caught my attention.
I’ve never forgotten my first beer at Legend, nor will I forget my final beer at Stone.
Last beer at Stone (Photo Bill Pike)
In terms of square footage and brewing capacity, Legend and Stone are opposites. However, both breweries were part of the rapid expansion of craft breweries across Virginia and America.
During this unprecedented growth, it was hard to imagine that craft breweries would oversaturate and peak out. The changes at Stone and Legend are also being felt throughout America.
In their annual report, the Brewers Association noted that in 2025, “production declined amid softer beer sales nationwide.” Despite this decline, “craft beer outperformed the broader beer category, and craft beer market share edged higher.”
For craft brewers still in the game, this is good news. But what this truly means is that brewers will need to continue to find ways to maintain the integrity of their quality while keeping their loyal customers happy.
Speaking of happy, the closing of the Stone Brewery is not a happy one. Good, competent, and dedicated employees lost their jobs.
Signage outside the former Stone brewery after its closing (Photo Bill Pike)
In 2022, the large Japanese brewer Sapporo purchased Stone. Four years later, Sapporo decided to sell Stone.
This is the second time that Sapporo has bought an iconic American brewery. In 2017, Sapporo purchased Anchor Steam Brewing in San Francisco. Thanks to what some employees and industry experts called Sapporo’s poor management decisions, Anchor Steam was closed in July 2023.
Now, the former Stone Brewery will be brewing Sapporo’s lightweight beers. I hope Sapporo doesn’t have plans to purchase and destroy any more American breweries.
I’m glad that Legend has worked out an arrangement with another Richmond brewery, Hardywood, to keep brewing Legend’s best-selling beer, their Brown Ale. This is an excellent example of the quiet camaraderie found amongst brewers.
Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ve seen the end of changes in the craft brewing industry in Virginia or America.
The first brewers to set up shop in America also experienced success throughout the Northeast and Midwest. Those early brewers also developed loyal followers and welcoming halls for gatherings.
Today, some of those brewers like Miller, Coors, Budweiser and Yuengling are still around, but they’ve had their struggles, too.I’ve always admired the creativity and ingenuity of craft brewers. Their cleverness helped them to survive the pandemic.
I sense craft brewers are always thinking and working to figure out how to sustain, innovate and keep their loyal followers. Every week, craft brewers are not sitting still. Whether it’s a new beer, a collaboration with another brewer, providing local entertainment or offering hot trends in food, craft brewers keep pushing.
I’d like to know if that constantly pushing mentality could be used to help other businesses and organizations that are struggling. Could those inventive marketing strategies be applied to help declining churches rethink their outreach action plans?
Craft brewers have also been good at finding ways to give back a percentage of their sales by investing in good causes in their own backyards.
Might craft brewers be interested in expanding those community investments? In the art of brewing, lots of science is involved. Is there a way for the science of brewing to be applied to develop brewing apprenticeships or scholarships through our local community colleges and beyond?
In the same way, might our Richmond craft brewers be willing to create a series of beers that capture the goodness of Richmonders and their accomplishments? Could a portion of those sales be used to establish scholarships for students? Some bold Richmond brewer might develop — Michael Paul Williams Pulitzer Pilsner, Maggie Walker Penny Lager, Jonathan Austin Juggling IPA or Arthur Ashe Love 40 Saison.
Can craft brewers survive this downturn? I want to say yes.
But my yes is linked to their ability to understand how they became successful. This requires an exhaustive internal and external review of their strengths and areas for improvement. At the heart of that assessment lies their ability to pivot not only quickly, but with rational thinking.
In truth, I’m not a daily, weekly or monthly visitor to craft breweries. But when I do venture out, I love it when the people in those tasting rooms are a true cross-section of our communities.
For those special moments of diversity, I hope that our craft brewers survive.
Note from author: I was honored to have this op-ed piece published in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. The piece first appeared in the on-line edition on June 29, and it was published in print on Wednesday, July 8, 2026. The two photos included here were supplied by me. Neither appeared with the Richmond Times-Dispatch editions. Thanks, Bill Pike
Doesn’t matter if you are watching on-line or here in the Sanctuary, we are happy that you joined us.
Will you join me in prayer?
Father of us all, we thank you for the privilege of worshipping this morning. Over the next few minutes, touch our hearts. Amen
I truly am honored to be with you.
When I have this opportunity to pinch-hit in the pulpit, I always offer some disclaimers.
First, I’m no expert on anything. My wife can affirm that.
Second, I’m no theologian or Biblical scholar.
And finally, while I did complete the process to become a certified lay speaker, I’m sure if leaders for the district and conference checked carefully, they might find that my credentials need renewal.
Despite those disclaimers let’s get started.
On the afternoon of Monday, June 15, I was in Trinity Hall. I was quietly putting away chairs and tables from a Saturday afternoon event.
At some point, I took a break, and checked my phone.
I saw I had a missed call. The person had left a voice mail.
That’s when I learned your pastor, Mark, was looking for a substitute, a pinch hitter for this morning.
My mind slipped back into my years in public education and as a student too. When the regular teacher was out for a day, sometimes good students took on a different persona. Depending upon their skills, often a substitute teacher could have a challenging day.
So, I accepted Mark’s invitation, and with some regret, I promise to behave.
Today is Father’s Day.
At Trinity on Father’s Day, the men have a tradition of wearing Hawaiian shirts. Years ago, one of our usher teams brought in this practice. In truth, its been fun. But for the benefit of your eyes, I opted to spare you the vision of an old guy in a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt.
In preparing for this morning, I pondered multiple scripture options related to fathers. As you know, the Bible has many stories linked to fathers.
I considered Abraham. I thought about the father of the Prodigal Son, and even Mary’s husband, Joseph.
But for some reason, I was drawn to Proverbs Chapter 4 verses 1-15. I think my pull was the multiple references to wisdom.
The movie The Shooter is too violent for me to recommend that you watch it. However, there is a memorable scene in the film about wisdom.
Two of the characters, who are in a bit of hot water, meet with an elderly man who is known for his expertise as a gunsmith.
This expert looks at his two guests and says to them, “You boys come along way, what you looking for?”
One of the guest’s replies: “wisdom.”
With no hesitation, the gunsmith responds, “You come to the wrong place.”
I’m not sure about you, but often in my attempts to deal with this crazy world of ours, I find that I need wisdom.
I wonder where do you go to get wisdom today?
Do you sit at your computer and ask AI your wisdom question?
Do you phone a friend?
In looking for your much needed wisdom, might you do some in depth research?
Or, do you still come to this Sanctuary on Sunday mornings to find the wisdom you need?
Years ago, my search for wisdom would take me to my father or to my father-in-law. Even though their growing up environments were very different, their experiences in life had made them wise. I knew these cherished men would be able to guide me.
Today, I have a very predictable wisdom routine. I start my day by reading the daily devotional in the Upper Room. That quiet time also includes a long prayer connected to my lengthy prayer list.
Yet, I can tell you— nothing else related to the day ahead of me starts until my devotion and prayer time is completed.
Somedays, I find wisdom in the words from strangers who have written those devotionals and live on the other side of the world.
Other days, the scripture reading pushes me to carefully think about the life lessons available from these verses.
Part of what drew me to our scripture reading this morning from Chapter Four of Proverbs were the references to wisdom.
Additionally, from those fifteen verses, I’m drawn to these words: listen, insight, teaching, heart, paths, and evildoers.
The author makes it clear that if you gain wisdom you also need to pickup some insight.
How many times in your life has your insight come from reliving a challenging moment through your rearview mirror? In that reflection, do you ever silently say to yourself, I wish I had responded differently?
Our lives take us down many paths. The scripture warns us that evildoers can be along the way. We are advised not to go down that path to turn away.
Despite those warnings, that wisdom, that insight, some of us fall in with the evildoers. Why is that?
In his book Somebody Told Me, author, Rick Bragg, writes about America. The book is based upon articles that he wrote as a reporter for the New York Times. Mr. Bragg won a Pulitzer Prize for his work. Included in the book are several articles related to the tragic mass shootings that have plagued America.
One of the saddest of these shootings is about Mitchell Johnson and Andrew Golden. When these two opened fire on their school, Mitchell was fourteen and Andrew eleven.
Everyone wants to know how can a fourteen year old and an eleven year old do such a thing? Where did the shooters go wrong? Did these troubled individuals go wrong because they had no wisdom, no insight, no one to guide them in their lives?
How much of that “why” is linked to these findings:
According to a report from the US Census Bureau: In 2023, nearly one in four children in America aged 0‒17 years, totaling about 19 million, were living in a household without their biological, step, or adoptive father, mostly with their mother (85% of cases). In fact, living in a single-parent households with a father absent is the second most common U.S. living arrangement, and the proportion of these households has doubled since 1970 (US Census Bureau, 2023).
That’s right, I said 19 million with no father in the household.
Let me be clear. As a retired educator, I saw how challenging parenting can be in all circumstances. I worked with many gifted single parents. Yet, I wonder how much better life might be for those 19 million children if there was a reliable, steady father in their lives.
And yes, I know that all fathers aren’t perfect.
Even when fathers are reliable, loyal, and steady in their support of their children and families, they can be challenged.
In the Bible, let’s go back for a moment and think about Abraham, and the father of the Prodigal Son, and Joseph.
To be truthful with you, I struggle with God directing Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. Yes, I know God tests us. Thank goodness for the angel’s intervention, but I can’t begin to imagine the emotional scarring for Abraham and Isaac.
And to continue that truthfulness, I struggle with the story of the Prodigal Son. I think my struggle with this scripture is because I know there were many times in my life where I disappointed my father. I let him down.
I know there was never a moment in my life when my father let me down—his heart was too good. Perhaps, my father learned from the good heart of the father of the Prodigal Son.
And speaking of good hearts, what about Joseph?
Engaged to Mary. Out of the blue, he learns that she is expecting a child. The angel of the Lord comes to Joseph in a dream telling him to continue to stand by Mary. What trust Joseph must have had in his heart to comply and remain loyal.
When I think about Abraham, and the father of the Prodigal Son, and Joseph, I want to know who taught them to be reliable, steady, and loyal? Where did they receive this wisdom?
For thirty one years, I worked in the public schools of Virginia. Initially, teaching was at the core of my daily work. Yes, I have lots of stories swirling around my old noggin’.
But, I have never forgotten one day during lunch duty in the cafeteria at Lakeside Elementary School. I sat down with a class of second graders. They were waiting for their teacher to pick them up.
One student, who was new to our school, moved closer to me and said clearly “my daddy is in jail.”
I’ve had students confide and say lots of things to me, but that was the first time for “my daddy is in jail.”
Let’s think back to those 19 million children with no father in the home. How many of those children have a “daddy in jail?”
I think we know the answer.
According to the Sentencing Project, 2.7 million children have a parent serving time in prison or jail on any given day, and over 5.2 million have had an incarcerated parent at some point during their lives.
At this point, you might be thinking, hey Bill, can you lightened up a bit?
And the answer is yes.
Why wasn’t one Father’s Day gift better than the other? It was a tie!
Where do dads go to dance on Father’s Day? Golf clubs.
What’s a groundbreaking Father’s Day gift to give to your dad? A shovel.
That was a pitiful attempt at humor.
Maybe, you were distracted from “My daddy is in jail” for a few seconds.
Despite that brief interruption, that challenge, those 19 million children without a father aren’t going to disappear from our communities, our states, and our country.
Perhaps, you have enjoyed some of the documentaries created by American filmmaker, Ken Burns. In the editing room where Mr. Burns and his team work, there is a sign that states “It’s complicated.”
Marriage, having children, and parenthood are complicated.
It takes quite a commitment to work through the ups and downs of marriage, having children, and parenthood.
In a few days, I’ll turn seventy-three. I often wonder how my wife and I made it through raising our three children.
One constant in my reflections is our teamwork.
Our commitment to see each other through never wavered.
Yes, it was challenging, demanding, and frustrating.
But, we survived because of that teamwork. Somewhere along the way, without us realizing it, the wisdom, the insight, the teaching, the listening from Proverbs Chapter Four was with us.
And that included those aggravating, heart wrenching moments when a wrong path or an “evildoer” interrupted the flow of life for our children.
I have no idea where that young man is today who confided in me— “my daddy is in jail.”
I hope that young man’s father was able to return to his son.
With the grace of God, I hope that wisdom, insights, listening, and teaching reconnected their lives. And if in that journey, a wrong path or “evildoers” appeared for the father and son, I hope that the path and the “evildoers” were quickly overpowered and sent on their way by the collective bond found in wisdom, insights, listening, and teaching.
The Steep Canyon Rangers are a successful bluegrass band from Asheville, North Carolina. Through the lyrics of their songs, their songwriters convey some memorable stories.
When I think about those 19 million children, I’m reminded of a song by the Steep Canyon Rangers titled “Hard Luck Kid.”
These words spoke to my old heart:
“He was looking to me with eyes so tired, so young, saying, “Can’t you see I’m worth just as much as anyone?” Give me just one chance, a little grace, and let me in, a little grace for the hard luck kid.”
Out of those 19 million children, you, me, we, us know there are going to be some “hard luck kids” in our paths.
Kids that are “tired,” who just need a “chance,” just a little “grace.”
Proverbs Chapter 4 verse 4 states: “Let your heart hold fast my words.”
Abraham, and the father of the Prodigal Son, and Joseph had hearts that held fast to wisdom, insights, listening, teaching, and grace.
In our daily living when we encounter one of those 19 million children aren’t God and Jesus going to be counting on our hearts to hold fast to wisdom, insights, listening, teaching, and grace?
When that day confronts you, me, we, us will our hearts be ready to respond?
Benediction: I hope you have a good Father’s Day. I recall that all my father wanted on Father’s Day was a good nap. I hope you have a good week too. And, I hope our hearts will hold fast to the wisdom from Proverbs. Now go in peace.
Note from author: On Sunday, June 21, 2026, I had the privilege of pinch hitting for the pastor at St. Andrew’s United Methodist Church in Henrico County, Virginia.
might be baloney 