Does Community Matter?

     We’ve never experienced the need for community more than these crushing days when our six-year-old granddaughter Lydia died. As one of the pallbearers observed, the coffin was light, but the burden was heavy.
     I thought about a man I knew who found that his best place for community was at a bar. Before heading for home after work, Frank often stopped at The Tap, lifted a longneck, and share some laughs. Everyone knew his name. Everyone accepted him.    
     Then Frank died.
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