When you get enough of something, it is often hard to restrain yourself. It continues to frustrate me when people jump on the media bashing band wagon. I cannot decide if some people really are easily influenced or they choose to be ignorant of the facts.
The hits just keep on coming. Every time I wrote a column about misspelled words, the floodgates open. You don’t have to look far on social media, or on store signs, to see how spellcheck is failing America. So sit for a spell, and lower your expectations.
In an ideal universe, I would have been born a princess who lived in a castle. I would have servants to do my laundry and a personal chef to prepare my meals so I could remain thin and healthy. I would also have my pick of eligible princes from around the kingdom.
We were all watching earlier this year when members of a pro-Trump crowd stormed our country’s capital. The mob invaded the Congressional chamber. Participants broke into offices, stole personal items and destroyed personal property of some members of Congress.
It has been almost a year since our COVID-19 nightmare began. According to the CDC, we have lost almost 500,000 people. The virus knows no boundaries and kills without regard for age, race, political affiliation or hometown.
Most of us know someone who is or has been a member of the National Guard.
The National Guard is a special part of the United States military that answers to both state governors and the president. Therefore, it has both state and federal responsibilities.
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?
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.
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.
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.
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…
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.
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.
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.
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.
Some Americans have spent the last two weeks watching their respective parties hold political conventions to officially nominate their candidate of choice. Now the business of voting can begin.
2020 has been the Edsel of years. For those who are too young to understand that ancient reference, it has been the New Coke of years. Am I still going back too far? Okay, it's been the Google Glass of years. There, I've covered every generation who may read this column. For all of us, the common thread is anger.
I like to point out how often I have been wrong in my career. It humbles me. Lord knows, we reporters have been humbled often recently. When we make mistakes, our readers point it out on social media within seconds. I am okay with that. We get a little high and mighty, so it never hurts to get taken down a notch or two.
When I was a little girl, I remember wanting to do everything my brother did. Not anything that involved dirt, of course, because that is taking it too far. But I noticed he got to do things my two sisters and I did not get to do.