“It’s all about me,” was written on the front and the back of the camper van I saw this morning in town, when paying one of my bills at the Post Office. Reading that put a smile on my face and I am wondering sometimes what people think when they see me walking along and grinning to myself.

“It’s all about me.” What do you make of it? Is it or is it not?

But please keep in mind that “it’s all about me.”

All of us have a mother, but it is not about my mother. All of us have a father, but it is not about my father. Some of us have a brother, but it is not about my brother. Some of us have a sister, but it is not about my sister.

About what is it then? It’s all about me.”

I am wondering if you remember the Negro spiritual that goes like this:

“It’s not my mother nor my father nor my brother nor my sister, but it’s me, Oh, Lord, standin’ in the need of prayer.”