Most of us think we know the rules. At a very young age we learned to always say "please" and "thank you," wash our hands and share our toys. Sometimes the rules can be confusing. Our mothers taught us to be polite, but never speak to strangers.
Do you remember the fable about the young man who had heard all his life about a magnificent house with golden windows? Finally he set out on a search to find it.
Michele is an amazing mother. Her techniques are novel, and I love to eavesdrop on her parenting conversations. As the primary caregiver to her teenaged girls I know it hasn't been easy, not at all. It was after the girls were born that she went to college, got a degree and a good job to support them.
This Thursday marks Veterans Day. I have been blessed to have grown up as a child surrounded by relatives who were veterans of not only World War II, but also World War I and the Spanish-American War.
Lavish draperies, Louis XIV French settees and marble floors do nothing more than set the stage in my salon or any other. It is achieving that gorgeous blonde bob or ravishing head of red hair that is paramount.
Almost every small town in America has a special person who rides a bike, walks the streets, everybody knows and loves, and has at least one good story about. My old hometown, Rolling Fork, claims Calvin Dickerson as that person.
Columbus has been quite a popular destination recently. We enjoyed tours, lectures, concerts and countless choices of entertainment. Some weekends Chris and I had to select carefully because we just could not do it all. Truthfully, I would like a few days off just to recuperate.
A friend whose mother was dying shared with me perhaps the most poignant words I have ever heard. When asked if she would like fresh roses by the window of her hospital room, my friend's 90-year-old mother, animated from within as if someone had lit a candle in her heart, said, "No, dear, I have already been given enough roses."
First off, let's get something straight: I celebrate Hallowe'en, but not because I am "in league with the devil." Actually, those of us who believe in Christ are in the unique position to laugh at death, not to fear its symbols. For us, it has already been defeated.
I have a job answering phones at The Columbus/ Lowndes County Convention and Visitors Bureau. It's actually rather fun work, sometimes hectic, and often challenging. I make copious notes on events in the area and try to keep the details orderly and organized.
Sam and I were on our way to the costume party; I rode beside him dressed in my bumblebee outfit. While I fought with my antennae bumping the headliner, I described costumes from a Miss Hospitality Pageant.
If you have read Mark Twain's wonderful "Life on the Mississippi," you have seen the classic portrait of steamboating on the great river, with its sense of privilege, adventure and (essential in Twain) comedy.
Sherlock Holmes, Sam Spade, Lord Peter Wimsey and Hercule Poirot are among the most famous of literary characters. They may have had their eccentricities, but being of an exotic or foreign racial extraction was not among them. It's different for another famous shamus, Charlie Chan; I know detective fiction fans might be able to think of some other non-white gumshoe, but he's the only one who comes to my mind.
In 1851 Joseph B. Cobb published a book titled "Mississippi Scenes." It contained one of northeast Mississippi's earliest ghost stories, "The Legend of Black Creek."
When I get in a car, I always buckle up -- have for a long time. In the early '80s one of my job duties was safety briefings, most of which, back in those days, amounted to nothing more than switching off the lights and switching on a projector.
Every season has its charm. I love the clothes of cold weather -- boots and berets and fuzzy scarves. And I adore those endless evenings of summertime's daylight saving hours, the dusk pierced by fireflies. However, I am always pleased to see the end of deep cold and early darkness. I would be quite content if summer lasted only about a week or two.
To layer or not to layer, that is the question -- with apologies to Shakespeare! Ladies layer everything nowadays. It begins with cosmetics: makeup primer first, moisturizer second, then finally the foundation and maybe a concealer before the color even begins.
Most people who grew up in the South think of homes built during the 1800s as being painted white. The "new" exterior paint colors of the Tennessee Williams home have caused many people to ask me, "Where in the world did they get those colors from?"
The weather this week has been so marvelous that I considered becoming a Pantheist. I imagine it is a solitary sort of worship, no mega-churches, no tithing, just recognizing the divine in nature.
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