Dear Scott Simon,

It was 6:30 in the morning. I’d already been up since 5:00. I was in the dining room trying to convince David to eat some yogurt when I heard you start your essay. I couldn’t catch every word, but something in your tone made me leap from my chair and rush into the kitchen. I stood bent over the radio, crying.

I turn the radio off for the “here’s another way we’ve ruined the environment” stories; it hurts too much. I leave it on for the top of the hour news and bear grim witness to our war in Iraq. I rarely hear agape and joy. Thank you.