writing – might be baloney

Missing Pat Conroy, It Has Been Ten Years

March 4, 2026 Bill Pike4 Comments

Some of my favorite Pat Conroy wisdom comes from his commencement speech for the Class of 2001 at The Citadel.

Near the closing of his speech, Mr. Conroy tells the cadets: “because I want you to know how swift time is, and there is nothing as swift—and you know this from the day you walked into Lesesne Gateway until this day—a heartbeat, an eye blink. This is the way life is. It is the only great surprise in life.”

Mr. Conroy was correct about time and its swiftness.

It is hard for me to believe that we lost him ten years ago on March 4, 2016. Those “heartbeats and eye blinks” are relentless in their swiftness—“this is the way life is.”

In 2025, I made sure that I read Pat Conroy’s first book, “The Boo.” That was the only book in his collection that I had not read.

The book is about Lt. Colonel Thomas Nugent Courvoisie (The Boo) who in 1961 was hired as the assistant commandant of cadets at The Citadel.

In the preface for the book, Mr. Conroy wrote that when he approached the Lt. Colonel about writing the book, he told Mr. Conroy: “It has to be a fun book, Bubba, and it can’t hurt The Citadel in any way.”

From my reading, I believe Mr. Conroy accomplished that goal.

Lt. Colonel Courvoisie had a tough job.

He was basically like an assistant principal in an all male high school who was charged with keeping the cadets in line.

In the book, the cadets certainly put the Lt. Colonel and themselves in many difficult situations, but one thing was clear—The Boo always attempted to do what was in the best interest of the cadet in those challenging circumstances.

Yes, I laughed at the stunts of college boys away from home.

But, my heart was also touched at how The Boo worked through endless situations with cadets who made regrettable mistakes.

I think the words from writers like Mr. Conroy are supposed to tug at our hearts.

In his books, through his fiction and nonfiction, Mr. Conroy uses his gift to make the reader ponder life.
He knew living was a challenge, and he knew the power of a story could impact a person’s thinking.

I’m not sure if he ever fully anticipated how “The Lord’s Of Discipline” would impact his life and the school he loved—The Citadel. After the publication of this book, for twenty years, Mr. Conroy wasn’t welcomed at The Citadel.

Some of that disfavor of Mr. Conroy started with his first book “The Boo.”

And later he added to his disapproval, when he supported Shannon Faulkner in her pursuit to be the first woman admitted to The Citadel.

Even though, time moves swiftly, time can also bring reconciliation, a settling, and understanding. After those twenty years, there was a healing, and Mr. Conroy and the school found the way to move forward.

I’m glad this reconciliation took place. It represents another chapter, another story in Mr. Conroy’s life.

Because I was a teacher, my heart will always be drawn to “The Water Is Wide.” I could feel his passion in the work he did with his students.

In “ A Lowcountry Heart,” I love his respect for the teachers he met around America.

From page 102, Mr. Conroy wrote: “Teaching remains a heroic act for me, and teachers live a necessary and all-important life. We are killing their spirit with unnecessary pressure and expectations that seemed forced and destructive to me. Long ago, I was one of them. I still regret I was forced to leave them. My entire body of work is because of men and women like them.”

My stability in life is grounded in many factors, but I’m right there with Mr. Conroy—teachers impacted my life too.

Maybe it is because I grew up in the heart of the Atlantic Coast Conference, but as I was growing up, I had an early affection for basketball. I’m sure I could provide you with a long list affirming my present disillusionment with college basketball, but I’ll spare you my whining.

Clearly, I have said or written this before, but what I really want you to know is that Mr. Conroy’s book “My Losing Season” about his senior year of playing collegiate basketball at The Citadel is a must read for lovers of basketball.

For me, I believe that “My Losing Season” really captures the heart and soul of Mr. Conroy. At least once a week, I grab the book for a random re-reading of a section. Those re-readings can make me chuckle, moisten my eyes, or make me think deeply about life.

Mr. Conroy, I can’t believe that its been ten years since your passing.

I miss your writing and your ability to tell a story.

From “The Lords of Discipline” in Chapter 41, the words you wove into play related to the honor court reinforce your skills as a storyteller. Again, I could feel the passion you created in the characters on that brutal and tragic night.

Of course, I can’t write about Mr. Conroy without referencing his ability to expand my vocabulary.

In Chapter 29 from “My Losing Season,” Mr. Conroy recalls a conversation with his English professor, Colonel Doyle. Colonel Doyle asserts that Mr. Conroy “pilloried” him in a short story published in The Shako, the literary magazine of The Citadel.

Pillory means “to attack or ridicule publicly.” If he were living, I suspect that Mr. Conroy might have “pilloried” America’s current chaos.

On this day of your passing, maybe up in heaven you are holding court with writers you admired.

Maybe, you are interacting with members of your family.

Maybe, you and The Boo are chuckling over a forgotten story.

Or maybe, you are having a quiet conversation with a humble teacher hearing this person’s inspiring stories from the classroom of life.

Even though its been ten years since your passing, I want you to know like many others who loved your writing—I still miss you.

However, what I really want you to know is that the work of your life and your words continue to touch my rapidly aging heart.

Have a quiet day in that wild blue yonder.

If you bump into God up there, tell him our hearts need help.

The classic book cover, The Boo and Mr. Conroy (Photo of book cover Bill Pike)

A rejected scripturient

February 28, 2026 Bill PikeLeave a comment

Word Daily shows up in my email everyday.

I guess someone believes I need to improve my vocabulary.

I agree.

I don’t believe the words sent are sticking to me like pine tree sap, but I do hang on to a few of the words.

Recently, the word—scripturient was sent.

Scripturient is defined as “having a strong urge to write.”

Rightly or wrongly that is me.

As a scripturient, I have learned that rejection is part of the territory.
I hope with every piece I submit to a publication that it might make the cut.

At least I know if the piece is rejected, I can share the failed writing with you on Might Be Baloney.

So today, I share with you two rejected letters to the editor.

I know they aren’t perfect, and that’s ok.

I tried.

In William Faulkner’s acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize in literature, he wrote: “I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.”

For America, I hope Mr. Faulkner is right.

This letter to the editor was written solely by Bill Pike. It is exclusive to the New York Times. Submitted 2/3/26

Everyday, reporters from the New York Times write stories about America’s leaders and the decisions they are making in Washington, D. C.

Doesn’t matter if it is the closing of the Kennedy Center, the chaos and tragedy created by ICE personnel in Minneapolis, or the removal of a slavery exhibit at Philadelphia’s Independence Mall, America is eroding.

From “sea to shining” sea, this erosion is grounded in a President who is more attuned to greed, disrespect, incivility, selfishness, abusive power, vindictiveness, and a complete disregard for the truth.

Clearly, Mr. Trump has a heart beating inside his chest, but the President’s heart has no understanding of the compassion needed to lead our country. His heartless leadership is hurting America.

In 1962, James Baldwin wrote in an essay for the New York Times: “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

America, our shortcomings, including the President’s cold-hearted, ruthless leadership are overdue to be faced.

This letter to the editor was written solely by Bill Pike. It is exclusive to the Washington Post. Submitted 2/5/26

As reported in the Washington Post, I’m disappointed, but not surprised that the owner, Jeff Bezos, gutted the newspaper of 300 employees.

When Mr. Bezos made the purchase of the Washington Post in 2013, he didn’t do his homework.

With 76 Pulitzer Prizes, Mr. Bezos purchased one of the most prestigious newspapers in the world. However, did Mr. Bezos know of the downward spiraling of newspapers that began in the 1990s?

Was he aware of Northwestern University’s Medill School of Journalism’s report that found between 2005 and 2025, we lost 3,400 newspapers in America.

More importantly, people like Mr. Bezos, with gobs of money, but who know nothing about the day to day operation of a newspaper shouldn’t be allowed to buy one.

From this latest announcement, I suspect the U. S. Geological Survey detected numerous seismic shifts sparked by previous Washington Post editors and reporters rolling in their graves.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we’re done with newspapers dying in America.

And yet, we live in a time where we desperately need the courage of editors and reporters to be accountable in reporting to readers the truth—“nothing, but the truth, so help them God.”

President Trump’s disdain for the truth and the newspaper journalists who diligently pursue the truth in their work is adding to the erosion of America.

I’m no expert on newspapers, but in hindsight, I believe newspaper editors will look back with regret that they didn’t do a better job of reporting to their subscribers the operating challenges they were experiencing.

In his book, “The Paper: The Life and Death of The New York Herald Tribune” Richard Kluger wrote: “Every time a newspaper dies, even a bad one, the country moves a little closer to authoritarianism.”

This is urgent, we can’t let the Washington Post die.

The desk of scripturient (Photo Bill Pike)

Tightening A Loose Screw

February 25, 2026 Bill Pike4 Comments

In the Eaton Hall mechanical room, there are two boilers. A hot water heater. A couple of air handlers. All kinds of electrical panels—some dead, some living.

There are pumps, pipes, conduits where phone and communication lines merge and disperse.

We even have a tunnel.

A crawl space that connects the Eaton Hall mechanical room to a small mechanical room in the basement of the Preschool.

Maybe, the youth should forget about selling pumpkins in the Fall. Consideration should be given to transitioning to a haunted bowels of the basement tour at Trinity during Halloween.

Who knows Chip and Flip could make cameo appearances as the sump pump mudmumblers or the boiler buzzards with a guaranteed admission discount slashed from $39.95 to $19.95.

Mechanical rooms in this old church building make me weary.

Financial disaster, in the form of a piece of equipment failing is always lurking in a mechanical room. Its the law of the darkness— where deep inside a pump a worn coupler shreds, fails. The pump squawks and shrieks in its mechanized death until the power is cut.

For months, we’ve been carefully monitoring two sump pumps in a well deep in the concrete floor. These pumps perform a critical function—they remove intruding ground water.

On Tuesday, a skilled technician who is familiar with cantankerous sump pumps came back to install a new switch for a supposedly faulty one.

In preparing for this installation, the technician discovered a loose screw. This screw was impacting the proper operation of that pump.

The technician simply tightened down the screw. Following this reconnection, he adjusted a float mechanism, and turned back on the electricity. In a matter of seconds, the pump was engaged and working properly.

When the technician reported his findings, I was relieved to hear this good news, and yet, I wondered why can’t the complications of daily living be so simple?

How different this world might be if it simply came down to finding and tightening a loose screw.

James Taylor is a gifted songwriter, singer, and musician.

He is also a survivor.

At some point in his career, Mr. Taylor had to tighten the screws of his lifestyle in order to make it to another day.

In the third stanza of his song “Fire and Rain,” Mr. Taylor wrote:
“Won’t you look down upon me, Jesus?
You’ve got to help me make a stand.
You’ve just got to see me through another day.
My body’s aching and my time is at hand,
And I won’t make it any other way.”

In this chaotic world, at this very moment, there is a human being who is hoping that Jesus is looking down upon them. That person no matter his/her circumstances needs help in making a stand.

What does it take to be seen through another day when no other options seem possible?

What are the chances that the right person with the right screwdriver will arrive and tighten down the loose screw for the person in need?

Might that screw tightener be you, me, we, us?

The other day, I stumbled upon this line of scripture: “Let me alone, for my days are a breath.”

Those words came from Job chapter 7 verse 16.

“For my days are a breath” reminds me of how quick time moves.

For that person who needs a screw tightened his/her time “is at hand.”

How will I respond if it is up to me to help that person to “make a stand?”

Making a stand is a “breath.”

So is tightening a screw.

Virginia Tech you’re not alone

February 10, 2026 Bill PikeLeave a comment

During the course of a year at our home, we receive alumni magazines from five colleges and universities.

I skim through these magazines. Quite often, I will find one or more articles that interests me, and I read those articles.

In the Fall 2025, Virginia Tech Magazine, an advertisement, a story about feeding Virginia Tech athletes, and a news release about a $229 million investment in student athletics caught my attention.

The advertisement and two articles made me think about a December 18, 2025 report from NPR. The reporter for NPR cited research from a national nonprofit, Swipe Out Hunger, who estimates that 2 in 5 college students face food insecurity.

Considering this information, I wrote a letter to the editor of the Virginia Tech Magazine.

At this point, I haven’t heard back from the editor of the magazine. But, I did hear receive an email from an administrator at Virginia Tech.

You can draw your own conclusions about my letter.

However, I think this is a solvable problem as Virginia Tech has an endowment of $1.95 billion dollars (June 30, 2024)

Letter

Tuesday, January 6, 2026

vtmag@vt.edu

I am not a graduate of Virginia Tech.

My connection to your outstanding university comes from our oldest daughter, a graduate of the Class of 2005.

I always enjoy skimming and reading the Virginia Tech Magazine.

In the Fall 2025 edition, Virginia Tech President, Tim Sands, starts his message with an interesting question—“Do you remember your first day on campus?”

Based upon a full page advertisement on page eight for The Market, I wonder how many current Virginia Tech students remember their first day on campus when they realized they were not going to be able to eat because of their financial situation.

The advertisement for The Market reveals “impact points” for the 2024-25 academic year. Ponder these points: over 69,000 pounds of food distributed, experienced a 375% increase in visits from students, 829 students received free meals, and $130,520 in funds were raised for keeping the pantry stocked. Additionally, there is a plea to make a gift to keep the shelves stocked.

In contrast to this plea to support The Market, on page seventeen is an article titled Fuel For Victory. This article is about feeding Virginia Tech’s “600 plus student-athletes across 22 sports.” Author Carter Brown states—“behind every athlete stands a dietitian equipped with a fueling strategy to help them feel and perform their best.”

I wonder if there is a dietitian behind the 829 students who received free meals from The Market?

And to carry this disparity further, on page forty-nine is the announcement that Virginia Tech has approved a $229 million investment in athletics. This funding is allocated “to position the university to compete with top Atlantic Coast Conference programs.” I wonder how many of those millions will be spent luring and paying upper tier athletes to play for Virginia Tech in hope that an elusive national championship be won?

Look, I know how important athletics are to college campuses. But along the way money has become the brain trust, not practical thinking.

In the January 2026 edition of the Kiplinger Personal Finance Magazine, I read with interest an interview with Julie Garcia. Miss Garcia is the Founder of Jewels Helping Hands in Spokane, Washington. This nonprofit offers a variety of services to the homeless in their community.

When asked about the hopes for the future of Jewels Helping Hands, Miss Garcia stated: “We hope that we’re out of a job at some point because we no longer have to fill these gaps in the community.”

As a leading public research university, might President Sands direct Virginia Tech toward solving the food challenges of its students so that The Market is no longer needed? How much of that $229 million could be redirected toward leveling the food playing field for all Virginia Tech students, not just student athletes?

Virginia Tech might not ever be able to invest enough in athletics to win a national championship.

But, how amazing would it be, if a cure for a type of cancer came from a Virginia Tech student who no longer had to worry about food insecurity.

President Sands, Virginia Tech has the ingenuity and the financial resources to solve this challenge.

This is a risk worth taking.

Do it.

Bill Pike
Richmond, Virginia

Life Is Difficult: Penny Dollar Farmer, Julian Barnes, Piedmont, Alabama, and Lara Love Hardin

February 1, 2026 Bill PikeLeave a comment

The email arrived on January 15, 2026.

It was from Tommy Yow.

At one time, Tommy had served as the Youth Director at Davis Street United Methodist Church in Burlington, North Carolina.

Davis Street was the church we attended when I was growing up.

The email was from the North Carolina Conference of the United Methodist Church. It was a request for prayers.

Penny Farmer a retired Methodist minister had been moved into hospice care.
When I was growing up at Davis Street, Penny Farmer was Penny Dollar.

Penny was a part of the youth group at Davis Street, and she was a classmate at Walter Williams High School. We graduated in 1971.

I often wondered how she felt about her name. Did people tease her? Dd they ask foolish questions as jokes? Hey Penny, you dropped a penny. Hey Penny, do you have any dollars?

I will confess I haven’t been a good friend or Christian in keeping up with people over the years.

Yet, Penny had a distinguished and impactful career as a Methodist minister. No matter where she served in eastern North Carolina, no matter her title, people in those congregations held her in high esteem.

Her accomplishments, her leadership, and her ability to impact the lives of people no matter their age was impressive.

Penny’s partner in life has been her husband, John, who is also a Methodist minister.

With the news about hospice care, I added Penny to my prayer list.

On Saturday, January 24, my sister, Lisa, texted me that Penny had passed.

Moments like this make me pause. I pause and ask lots of internal faith questions.

I know Penny’s health had been declining, but I also always want to know why such a good person, a loyal servant, and a person who walked the walk and talked the talk much better than me isn’t still with us.

I also question the sad losses that Penny experienced in her life two brothers and a granddaughter, how can these losses happen to a committed Christian?

I know, I know what you are thinking, Bill, that’s the way life is. Bad things happen to good people everyday. You can’t do anything about it.

Yes, that is all true, but I always want to know why didn’t God intervene?

Where are God’s angels?

Where is the gentle touch of Jesus?

I think about all of those New Testament stories in the Bible where just the touch of Jesus or the presence of Jesus changed circumstance for individuals.

Where was that touch for Penny and others like her?

Come on Bill, you always get riled up and question God in moments like this. One of these days, God is going to say—all right Pike, I’ve had enough, you’re out of here.

But, deep in my heart, I know that you have the same questions, you’re just not as crazy as I am.

By now, you know that I listen to the National Public Radio Show Fresh Air. I listen to Fresh Air because I always learn from the interviews.

Recently, I listened to an interview with British author, Julian Barnes. I confess I have never read any of Mr. Barnes’ books. Part of that interview with host, Terry Gross, caught my attention.

In 2008, Mr. Barnes lost his wife in thirty-seven days from a very aggressive brain cancer. Mr. Barnes stated this was the most “appalling, the blackest” thing to happen in his life.

Mr. Barnes describes himself as an agnostic. He doesn’t believe in God.

Terry Gross asked Mr. Barnes: “Do you ever wish you could believe in a loving, comforting God who was your friend and a heaven where you’d be reunited with your wife of 30 years, and, you know, things would be calm and beautiful?”

Mr. Barnes responds: “No. I’ve never thought that. I’ve never had any religious belief. I think that life is all we have, and there’s nothing after it. It’s very hard to believe in a calm and loving God when you look at the state of the world.”

As the interview continues, Mr. Barnes cites an interview he heard with actor, Stephen Fry. Mr. Fry was asked: “So give me one reason why you don’t believe in God. And Stephen Fry answered, child cancer.”

To this line of thought, Mr. Barnes adds more comments:
“If he’s a loving God, then why does – why do the just do badly? Why do the unjust succeed? Why does – why do innocent people get suddenly killed? It makes no sense, except that the defense from the religious angle is God moves in mysterious ways. We simply don’t know. We’ll find out later. That’s sort of not good enough for me.”

I think about what Mr. Barnes stated.

Part of me reckons, if we are truthful with each other, we have asked those questions at various points in our lives.

We still subscribe to Southern Living magazine. I love the Grumpy Gardener, but I love even more the column by Rick Bragg. Mr. Bragg makes me laugh.

Perhaps you know that Mr. Bragg is a Pulitzer Prize winning journalist. His book “Somebody Told Me” is a compilation of newspaper stories he wrote for the Birmingham News, St. Petersburg Times, and The New York Times.

The first chapter of the book is titled—Survivors. In this opening chapter, Mr. Bragg writes about the devastating tornado that struck Piedmont, Alabama on March 27, 1994.

Twenty people were killed when the tornado hit Goshen United Methodist Church. It was Palm Sunday.
Six of the dead were children. One of those children was the four year old daughter of the church’s pastor, Reverend Kelly Clem. Her husband, Dale is also a minister.

In Mr. Bragg’s article, Robyn Tucker King states: “We are trained not to question God. But why? she said. Why a church? Why those little children? Why? Why? Why?”

Could it be that God might wish that “why” wasn’t a part of our language?

And yet, the curiosity of “why” can also be applied to Lara Love Hardin and her book—“The Many Lives of Mama Love.”

A New York Times Bestseller and an Oprah Book Club pick in 2024, this book is a true store of the author’s downfall and ultimate redemption. It involves the ugliness of addiction, arrest, incarceration, and the post-jail challenges of breaking free.

Some how, some way, Lara Love Hardin beat the odds, reinvented herself, and encountered a remarkable redemption—why?

Was it her random heartfelt prayers?

Was it her unyielding resolve not to lose her four sons?

Was it her relentless determination not to become another statistic of recidivism?

Was it luck, timing, her long buried gift of writing?

Why does Lara Love Hardin turn her life around, and thousands of other women who have been incarcerated fail?

Everyday, Tommy Yow forwards me an email. It is a meditation from Richard Rohr’s Center For Action and Contemplation.

On Friday, January 30, the meditation was written by Liz Charlotte Grant. The topic was how she reads the Bible today.

The last paragraph caught my attention:
“You too have permission to question the sacred without fearing a backslide into unbelief. Knock loudly. Listen to your gut and let your tears run. Reject answers that do not admit complication. Seek the resonance at the base of the story. The seeking is the point. Because there, in your wandering, God is.”

It should be obvious that I would be drawn to “permission to question.”

I will also admit that losing good people like Penny Dollar, Julian Barnes’ feelings about God, and that Piedmont, Alabama tornado make me contemplate “a backslide into unbelief.”

Yet, some how, I’m still a wondering wanderer.

Maybe, Lara Love Hardin’s turnaround has something to do with that.

Late on the afternoon of Thursday, January 29, 2026, I needed a quiet place to organize paperwork at Trinity the church where I work.

The winter storm that hit Richmond made the first three days of this week challenging. The challenge was attempting to clear the church’s sidewalks of a ridiculously thick layer of frozen snow, sleet, and freezing rain. Why God didn’t you just send snow?

I went to room 317, the classroom where the Book Seekers class meets on Sunday mornings. This group of ageless wonders has lots of wisdom.

As I was finishing up my work, I looked at the whiteboard on one of the walls.
Scribbled out in black dry-erase marker was some wisdom.

The first line caught my attention—Life is difficult.

I think to myself, yes it is.

Followed by—Character of God—always there, loving, dependable. Share our burdens.

Here, I start to struggle.

Always there, loving, dependable—is he? Shares our burdens—does he? Immediately, I’m thinking about troublesome headlines in America and the world.

Last line starts with a question—How do we respond? Wait and hope. Don’t give up-never give up. Remember God’s providence.

Maybe God is waiting for us to respond to those troublesome headlines.

Is he in a holding pattern up there?

Is he looking down hoping that we will wake up?

Is he hoping that we will never give up on ourselves or God’s providence?

Penny Elizabeth Dollar Farmer knew life was difficult.

Penny saw it with her own family and the congregations she served in her career.

But in the burdens of difficult lives, she knew and saw in her work the character of God—always there, loving, and dependable.

No matter the circumstances, Penny always responded. She could wait out with hope, she never gave up.

Why?

She always, always remembered God’s providence.

And so should we.

Thank you Anthony Romanello

January 27, 2026 Bill Pike2 Comments

When I served as an assistant principal at Hermitage High School in Henrico County, Anthony Romanello was one of our students.

By the time Anthony was a senior, the faculty, staff, and his peers knew there was something special about him.

They also sensed no matter where Anthony’s future took him that he was going to have an impact in a positive way.

In 2025, Anthony announced that he would be leaving his job as Henrico County’s leader for economic development.

Truthfully, I was a bit sad by this announcement. I thought Anthony might become county manager in Henrico some day.

No matter the cities and counties where Anthony has served in Virginia, he has made a difference.

In his two books, “Random Thoughts: Reflections of Public Service, Fatherhood, and Middle Age” and “The Girl Who Lived on the Third Floor,” we learn about Anthony’s most reliable asset—his heart.

Starting with “Random Thoughts: Reflections on Public Service, Fatherhood, and Middle Age,” readers experience an up close look at Anthony’s leadership heart in action.

His heart reveals the importance of building relationships, listening, visioning, hard work, teamwork, empathy, loyalty, and two simple words—thank you.

With “The Girl Who Lived on the Third Floor,” the focus shifts to Anthony’s daily interactions with his wife, Diane, and their children. This book is based upon the commitment Anthony and Diane made as foster parents.

In 2016, with four of their own children, Anthony and Diane made a decision to adopt an eleven day old baby girl into their family.

From this adoption, we see Anthony’s heart from a different angle— an angle that reveals how his successful management skills can be impactful in a family setting too.

I believe those attributes and his compassion for people will continue to allow Anthony to grow in his new role as a managing partner for a local consulting firm.

But what I really hope is no matter how difficult the decisions might be that local leaders make, it is important for them to listen to their hearts.

When leaders disregard their hearts in making decisions, the people they serve lose.

Luckily for the people in the communities where Anthony Romanello has served, he has humbly listened to his heart.

Long may his heartfelt service endure.

America’s firestorm

January 26, 2026 Bill PikeLeave a comment

It has been a year since wildfires devastated parts of Los Angeles, California. Recently, I have read and listened to follow-up reports about these deadly and destructive fires.

From the NPR show Fresh Air, I listened to host Tonya Moseley’s interview with journalist, Jacob Soboroff, about his new book “Firestorm: The Great Los Angeles Fires And America’s New Age Of Disaster.” Soboroff interviewed one firefighter who said, “there’s no fire season, it’s fire year.”

In truth, I feel that way about America at this time. I sense America is in a firestorm. From “sea to shining sea” and beyond our borders we are a raging hot spot.

We are burning out of control. There is no immunity. Every state and country has kindling ready to ignite.

ICE shootings in Minnesota and Oregon.

Another mass shooting in Clay County, Mississippi with six people dead. The victims range in age from 7 to 67.

A arson fire in Mississippi that burned through a historic synagogue destroying its library. In 1967, the same synagogue endured a bombing by the Ku Klux Klan.

Beyond our borders, America’s foreign policy has intense flames in Venezuela, the Ukraine-Russia war, the unrest in Iran, and the always volatile Middle East.

And despite these hot spots, the hottest, most intense fire burns in our nation’s capital.

The mentality of our leadership is fueled by greed, disrespect, incivility, selfishness, abusive power, vindictiveness, and a complete disregard for the truth.

As badly as we might want 2026 to be a better year, it is already “a fire year.”

In 1962, James Baldwin wrote in an essay for the New York Times: “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

America we are overdue to face ourselves.

Author’s note: This piece was submitted to the Richmond Times-Dispatch as a letter to the editor on January 13, 2026. To the best of my knowledge, it was rejected.

Love, it will take more than a sign

January 3, 2026 Bill Pike2 Comments

On the evening of Friday, January 2, 2026, my wife and I visited the Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden.

Our purpose for this trip was to view the Dominion Energy GardenFest of Lights.

This annual trek didn’t disappoint.

No matter where our footsteps took us, we like children were captured by the colorful and creative displays of lights.

GardenFest at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden (Photo Bill Pike)

If you are a follower or occasional reader of my blog, Might Be Baloney, you know by now that I’m a pretty good whiner.

I try to whine for what I believe to be good reasons. I’ll let you figure out if the whines are on target.

Rightly or wrongly, I sometimes send a Letter To The Editor to newspapers across America. Quite often, my letters are rejected.

Though I’m disappointed from the rejections, I also try to see these rejections as an opportunity to learn. And no matter if a letter is accepted or rejected, our voices need to be heard.

I recently sent letters to the Chicago Tribune and the Washington Post.

I’m sharing these letters with you today.

As you will see, the frame of both letters is identical.

The letters were changed to meet word count requirements. All newspapers have word count requirements for a Letter To The Editor. Those word counts can range from 150 to 400.

Either way, the point in both letters is this— if we truly want to change our world, we must figure out how to love.

That love must be more than a pretty sign.

I leave you with both letters, and a hope and prayer that 2026 will be a gentle year for you and your loved ones.

Be safe, love, Bill Pike

Sent to the Chicago Tribune December 17, 2025

In the song “The Christmas Waltz” written by Sammy Kahn and Jule Styne is this lyric: “It’s that time of year when the world falls in love.”

While that optimism might be true for individuals who find the right person to fall in love with, it appears to me that our world is incapable of loving one another.

Where is our love for each other in these headlines:

Stockton, California at a birthday party, four people shot, killed, three of those were children, and thirteen injured.

In Palmyra, Syria, two U.S. military personnel and a civilian working as an interpreter were ambushed, killed, three others injured.

At Brown University in Rhode Island, two killed and nine injured at a shooting.

Sydney, Australia at Bondi Beach at least fifteen killed at a Hanukkah gathering.

Commenting after the attack on the U.S. military personnel in Syria, President Trump stated there will be:
“a very serious retaliation.”

As an imperfect American who loves my country, but who doesn’t always understand my country, I want to know when are we going to take “a very serious retaliation” against ourselves.

By retaliation, I mean when will we fully commit to unraveling our mental illness and our dependency for solving any personal problem by shooting people.

It is disgraceful that we are politically unwilling to find the middle ground and backbone to discover a practical solution.

Why do we constantly fail to see what we are doing to ourselves?

Isn’t the carnage in schools, houses of worship, shopping centers, and other public settings enough?

How many more lives must we lose in America and other countries to violence from firearms?

Will our disrespect of our hard fought and blood stained freedoms bring America to our demise?

No matter the magnificence of America’s accomplishments, those achievements mean nothing if we can’t resolve the on-going erosion of our human infrastructure.

That erosion has emptied our hearts of compassion and courage.

Incivility, selfishness, division, and disregard for the truth have refilled our hearts.

What kind of America have we become to allow our leaders and ourselves to showcase such contempt?

Blink, and December 2026 arrives.

In that blink, we must embrace this wisdom from Martin Luther King, Jr. : “I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind’s problems.”

If we hope to change our headlines, we must love.

Sent to the Washington Post December 17, 2025

As reported by the Washington Post, Stockton, California, Palmyra, Syria, Brown University, and Sydney, Australia have unfortunately joined an elite club—communities where mass shooting have occurred.

This time of year, holiday songs like the “Christmas Waltz” suggest—“it’s that time of year when the world falls in love.”

In those heartbreaking headlines, no world is falling in love.

After the attack on U.S. military personnel in Syria, President Trump stated there will be:
“a very serious retaliation.”

As an imperfect American who loves my country, I want to know are we ever going to take “a very serious retaliation” against ourselves?

By retaliation, I mean unraveling the source of our mental illness to understand our dependency to solve personal problems by shooting people.

It is a disgrace that our political backbones are unwilling to work cooperatively to solve this sickness.

Why do we constantly fail to see our shortcomings?

Isn’t the slaughter in schools, houses of worship, shopping centers, and other public settings enough?

How many more lives must we lose to firearms?

Our earned freedoms were hard fought and blood stained. Will our disrespect of these rights be America’s demise?

No matter the magnificence of America’s accomplishments, those achievements mean nothing if we can’t resolve the on-going erosion of our human infrastructure.

That erosion has emptied our hearts of compassion.

Incivility, selfishness, division, and disregard for the truth have refilled those hearts.

What kind of America have we become to allow our leaders and ourselves to showcase such contempt?

Blink, and December 2026 arrives.

In that blink, we must act upon this wisdom from Martin Luther King, Jr. : “I know that love is ultimately the only answer to mankind’s problems.”

Any hope to change those headlines means we must learn to love.

Pretty sign from GardenFest at Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden (Photo Bill Pike)

More rejections from William Whiner Part II: snow days

December 30, 2025 Bill PikeLeave a comment

A long time ago when I was a public school student in Burlington, North Carolina, I prayed for snow. Now as a rapidly aging, grumpy, geezer, snow has lost my affection. That endearment to snow has been shifted to our four school age grandchildren.

Even with my 31 years of work in public education, I watched faculty and staff members do their chants, dances, and prayers for a snow day. There is something about a snow day that is good for morale and a weary teacher’s mental health.

The challenge with snow is that it disrupts our regular routines. For parents with school age children that means being able to adjust those routines so that the daily needs of the children are met. Not every family has the built-in luxury of having grandparents who can pinch-hit when a snowstorm upsets those routines.

For school superintendents closing school due to inclement weather is never an easy decision. No matter the choice made by the superintendent that decision is always under the scrutiny of the public.

Thus far in the Richmond area, two storms have disrupted the routine for local school systems. It is easy to second guess those decisions.

For example, I wonder if the mild winter storm that closed schools in the Richmond area on December 5 could have merited a delayed opening?

With the December 8 storm, the snowflakes really didn’t start to accumulate on road surfaces until late morning. Could schools have opened and then closed early in the afternoon?

I know superintendents and their staffs do not take weather related closings of school lightly. In making that decision they carefully review the forecast, consult with local police and road departments about street conditions, and depend upon personnel in pupil transportation to make real time assessments.

Despite every effort to carefully make the right decision, a superintendent can’t please everyone.

I experienced this when I served as an assistant principal at Hermitage High School. Several days after a significant winter storm schools reopened.

With that reopening, a phone call came in from an upset mother. While driving to school that morning, her son had been involved in an accident. She was angry at the school system for reopening. Nothing I said calmed the mother’s fury.

Honestly, at the heart of closing a school system for winter weather, you will find an attorney. Attorneys are thinking about safety from multiple angles. They ask lots of questions all related to reducing the potential for liability:

Can school system maintenance personnel properly clear parking lots and sidewalks?

Can bus drivers safely maneuver their buses through less traveled neighborhood streets?

Can faculty and staffs, student drivers, and parents who are responsible for transporting their children arrive at school safely?

No one associated with the school system wants any injuries from slippery sidewalks, fender benders in high school parking lots, or a school bus accident.

Perhaps, the greatest pressure is on school bus drivers. Driving a school bus under normal conditions is challenging enough. Mix in frozen winter precipitation with impatient civilian drivers who believe they are invincible with their all wheel drive vehicles, and the potential for accidents rises.

Recently, another phenomena has occurred in the decision to close schools related to winter weather. More frequently, superintendents are closing schools before the first snowflake has fallen.

I suppose this early announcement helps families to better implement their alternative plans for a snow day. However, I can only imagine what a superintendent will endure if that forecast fails to materialize.

As difficult as it is to close schools, making the decision to reopen can be challenging too. Depending how much instructional time has been missed, superintendents must also figure out how to recoup the missed time.

Perhaps, these questions are worth reviewing:

Do superintendents know of alternatives beyond the traditional make up days or extending the hours of the school day for regaining instructional time?

Might developing a year round school calendar reduce winter weather interruptions?

Could attorneys find a year round school calendar more compatible for reducing potential liability?

Do superintendents solicit post-winter storm feedback from students, parents, teachers, bus drivers, and maintenance personnel as a means for helping to shape future weather closing decisions?

And of course, there is always the insights of our friends and neighbors from other parts of America who rarely close their schools for winter weather. What might Southern superintendents learn from these “no fear of snow” superintendents?

As we waddle our way through the remainder of winter, maybe the weather gods will be kind to us with no more snow days. While that might disappoint students, superintendents will sleep better.

Note from the author: This rejected Op-Ed piece was sent to the Richmond Times-Dispatch in response to December 2025 school system closures from wintry weather. Bill Pike Richmond, Virginia

School bus with snow along its roof line (Photo Bill Pike)

Monday morning key fob blues

December 6, 2025 Bill PikeLeave a comment

I’ve got the Monday morning key fob blues, that old key fob has made me weary right down to the soles of my shoes. Like a vengeful woman on Sunday night, that key fob battery has made my revengeful Monday morning a sorrowful plight.

On the morning of Monday, December 1, I had a plan.

Step one—drop off a letter that had been incorrectly delivered to our home to a US Postal service mailbox at a neighborhood shopping center.

Step two— open up Trinity United Methodist Church.

Step three—return home and work out on my old exercise bike.

Just before 6:30, I started my plan.

I drove to the shopping center.

I did not park in a parking space. I looped my car around parallel to the building with the car pointing in the direction I needed to go to exit the parking lot.

Turned off the car, walked a few steps to the postal box, and dropped in the letter.

Walked the few steps back to my car and attempted to start the car.

The car would not start.

A message flashed on the panel in front of me: Key ID incorrect.

No matter what I tried. The car would not start. The message remained the same—Key ID incorrect.

How in the world could the Key ID be incorrect? I wondered if the key fob had been overtaken by some outer space alien who wanted to disrupt my Monday.

A young man from a local construction company pulled in a parking space in front of the 7-11. I politely interrupted his entry and asked if he had any ideas?

He didn’t, but we had a good conversation about his company who had replaced the steeple at our church a few years ago.

With that I started a walk home. I was worried that my improper parking might get the car towed before I could get home and return with the backup key fob.

The Mobil service station was open. I stopped in and asked Jeff, the attendant, if he had any ideas. He suspected the key fob’s battery, but was perplexed by the message.
I thanked him and returned to my walk back home.

At the corner of Rock Creek Road and Forest Avenue, the young man from the construction company pulled over and offered me a ride to my house. I gladly accepted. Turns out two of his four children attend Trinity’s preschool.

I thanked him profusely, and rushed in the house to get the second key fob.

With that key, I started my walk back to the shopping center.

I decided to stop at Trinity on the way back to open up the building.

Once that was done, I started a slow, sprint back to my car.

It was cold and my fingers were frozen. When I arrived at the car, those frigid fingers had a hard time working the second fob.

Unfortunately, the key fob gods were not in my favor on this Monday. The second fob greeted me with the same message— key ID incorrect.

Good thing I didn’t have a hammer.

I noted that my friend, James, was working in the 7-11. James also works part-time at the Mobil station. I walked in and explained to James my Monday morning key fob blues.

James walked outside and tested the fobs for opening the car’s doors. Neither fob responded—both fob batteries were dead.

As James walked back into the 7-11, Jeff from the Mobil station pulled up in his truck. Jeff had done an internet check. He discovered that by holding the fob directly against the ignition button that the car should start.

I got back in the car. My still icy fingers struggled to make the proper connection.

I tried a couple of times with no luck.

With Jeff’s insistence, he suggested that I align the fob again, and for whatever quirky reason—the car started.

Again, I thanked Jeff for his diligence.

Back home, I explained to my Commander Supreme what had transpired. She couldn’t believe it. I felt drained.

But, my Monday morning key fob blues were not as draining as this headline: 4 dead and 10 wounded in shooting at banquet hall in Stockton, California.

Among the dead were three children ages 8, 9, and 14. This event was a birthday celebration for a child.

Regrettably, this event only reconfirms what we already know about America—the trigger puller had no respect for his/her life, nor the respect for the lives of the people attending the birthday party.

San Joaquin County, Sheriff Patrick Withrow, made this statement: “I am confident in our team and with the work that we have done so far that we will find these animals that did this and bring them justice, but we still need the public’s help.”

“Animals”

Is this what America has sadly become?

I’ve got the Monday morning Stockton, California birthday party blues, with broken hearts that never heal as senseless shootings continue no matter the venue in a disrespectful America with a dying red, white, and blue.