This was not supposed to happen. At this point, we should not have to worry about the future of our nation. We have had more than 240 years to work out the kinks of this beautiful experiment. Where have we failed?
I used to be really into wrestling. “Rowdy” Roddy Piper was one of my favorites, God rest his soul, and he was in this movie called “They Live.” It came on one night after wrestling and I recorded it on a VHS.
Here in our household we started off 2020 with a new baby. That was the nice part. We stayed in to keep her from catching the flu. I looked forward to the end of flu season so that I could proudly parade my two beautiful children around to all of my favorite thrift stores and buffet dining establishments ( I can’t believe I haven’t had Pizza Hut lunch buffet in over a year!).
It was March when it came. It’s still here. Our world was turned upside down the day we heard about COVID-19. In Jackson County alone, there have been over 4,700 reported cases and 34 reported deaths.
In most companies when someone is promoted to a different job and have a staff, that person gets to pick members of his or her own team. It usually involves people they are familiar with and know the kind of job they will do. It is also an opportunity to choose people they know they can work with and who will have their back in cases of conflict.
The new year is almost among us, and I guess it’s what we have all been waiting on. There’s always been this terrible reasoning that as soon as 2020 was over, so would be our problems. I don’t think that’s going to be the case at all, but I’m not going to think about that now. I’ll think abo…
When most believers thank a higher power for the people in their lives, a mental list begins to form. It can include children, a spouse, parents, and siblings. The list naturally lengthens to extended family and friends. Perhaps a co-worker has asked for prayers for a family hardship or someone is on the sick list at their house of worship.
Circuit Judge Jenifer Holt peered across the courtroom as proceedings began. With a stern look, Holt told a TV reporter to cut off her recording device, as no such things are allowed in the courtroom.
When you write a column long enough, you establish traditions. For me, I usually turn over my Christmas week column to someone else. This gives me a break, it keeps you from having to endure a rerun column, and it is always written by someone I admire.
Last night I made chili for dinner. I meant to make spaghetti but didn’t have any sauce. So chili it was. It was a little hot, so I put cheese in it. It was still too hot, so I ate it with cheese toast.
I drove to pick up some pizzas Saturday night. The wonderful Thanksgiving leftovers had basically run out, and I guess I just wasn’t ready to return to the diet I started after I took a food sensitivity test that told me not to eat cow’s milk or peanuts or some other things that basically made up my entire diet.
Well, I opened a can of worms. A few months ago, I listed a few of the common spelling mistakes that make us laugh (or groan). Since then, my mailbox runneth over with more. So before the “statue” of limitations runs out (where IS that statue, anyway?) let’s review a few from the Bad Spelling Hall of Fame.
Most of us have a competitive side. At least, I do. Losing at anything makes me want to try harder. My brain goes into overdrive. It becomes imperative that I understand what mistake I made and what I need to do differently to change the outcome.
As we approach what some are calling the “dark winter” of this pandemic, I can only hope it is our one and only such winter. Like so many others, I’m hopeful that the Pfizer vaccine, the Johnson and Johnson vaccine, or whatever vaccine may follow, is indeed the magic bullet.
I have a friend named Ben. He’s in his 70s, is retired from a successful career, and leads a busy, fulfilling life. He’s endured a couple of health setbacks during the past ten years, including a cancer scare, but he has bounced back well. When we chatted recently, he asked, “Dave, how’re ya…
I guess the end of year holidays are my favorite. They come so closely together, and instead of rushing straight to Christmas I like to savor the moments of all the individual days and what they have to offer.
There are some things we can't say out loud. Perhaps no one should say them out loud. This pandemic is just as bad as advertised. People have suffered in every conceivable way, from routine inconveniences to losing loved ones.
I've been trying hard not to write about politics. We're two weeks from the presidential election, and it's almost impossible to escape. The birds outside my window are unusually chirpy, and I'm sure they're going at it over Trump's taxes or Biden's Supreme Court plans.
I guess I don’t feel much like writing anything these days. When I write all of my thoughts turn to politics and illness and how they are intertwined. I’d rather just sit on the porch and stare at my Cottonwood tree.
In my attempt at a humor column loosely related to the first presidential debate, I learned a lesson. I angered two groups of people: those who thought I should have blamed Trump, and those who thought I should have blamed Biden.
“Shut up, man.” “This guy is a clown.” “This guy is not smart.”
If that sounds like a scripted scene from Saturday Night Live, then you must have been visiting the space station last week during the presidential debate.
During the summer between seventh and eighth grade a few of my friends and I attended a summer program. It was like school in the summer, only we got personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut one day a week.
I was about to start writing about this squirrel I saw in my backyard. It was the cutest little fella, and we were just staring each other down, and then I got a text message. It was from one of my editors.
We have all had the unfortunate experience of attending a funeral where there is tension and discord among some of the people who are present. This side is not speaking to that side and both sides choose to air their dirty laundry over the deceased.
I used to say that politics was my football. I don’t give a single care about football. Never have, and don’t understand people who go crazy over it to the point that I often feel they are just faking. But I’ve always loved keeping up with politics. And I’ve gone crazy over them a time or two.
Here in Alabama, we love football. Good games, bad games, ugly games. None of that matters when our teams take the field. If it is fall, it is time to play some football.
In my job as an education reporter, I frequently hear from parents and teachers complaining about overcrowded classrooms. These days, that usually means 25 or more students at a time. I don't argue the point. The smaller the class size, the better, in every way.
I was grabbing a couple of sausage biscuits and witnessed a couple of old codgers arguing over their coffee. One was a bit on the heavy side, with wild hair and a loud voice. The other was silver-haired, more soft-spoken, and would occasionally seem to lose his train of thought.