Brenda Cannon Henley's archive

I sat on the deck here in Kemah and looked out over the Dickinson Bayou, a scenic part of Galveston Bay. The water was peaceful and smooth, the sky was blue, and the fish were jumping. Truly my kind of day. My attention was drawn to the next-door neighbor’s boat slip. The family had a beautiful boat, perfect for riding over the water or fishing with the family. A truck I didn’t recognize was in the yard, and a man I had never seen before was walking down the long pier.

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My mother, Flo Ella Cannon Davis, and Brendan Michael Jones, her great grandson

Mother’s Day has never been a favorite holiday of mine. There are many reasons, but the main one is that I felt I could never please my biological mother with any gift. She always found a way to make me (and others) know that she did not like it or that I did not do my best. That was just my mother.

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I have often, over the years, written about the power of words — both those that hurt and wound and those that help and heal. The Book of James teaches about the tongue and how powerful it is when used in anger or insult. I read Chapter 3 three times this week because I wanted to understand it as best I could.

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Ken Meyer of Conroe remembers their sacrifice, as he must. Some things are simply too sacred not to be remembered and honored. The U.S. Air Force Security Police veteran is honoring the 19 servicemen who lost their lives in Operation Red Wings in a way that is a bit unusual, but one that will certainly stand out in the minds of those he meets on his 628-mile journey.

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Consider this column a Public Service Announcement. I have been in the newspaper world for many years now and have written my fair share of articles about fraud, theft, criminal activity, and those who live to take from those who work hard to pay their just and honest debts. In the past few years, I have interviewed bankers, loan officers, members of law enforcement, and individuals affected by crime, and have learned a lot.

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