Every decade has its iconic images. When thinking of the 1920s, flappers come to mind. The '30s evoke long, gloomy lines snaking out of soup kitchens. Each period has a descriptive name, as well: "The Roaring Twenties" or "The Depression."
The square foot garden is coming along fine. I ate the five strawberries, 15 beans and one squash produced thus far; Sam said he'd stick with Cheerios. Something got to the lettuce before I did, but if zinnias and leafy cosmos were edible the Bardwells would have a cornucopia accented with one humongous sunflower.
Mrs. Crisler said it best when I complimented her on her bright red trench coat: "Honey, the older the barn, the brighter the paint!"
Cathy Pilkinton recently returned from a great week at Orange Beach. After hearing lots of reports about the condition of the beach from friends and on Facebook, Cathy and three of her friends decided to do what they could to support the local economy there.
The machines are rebelling. At work, my computer died a dramatic death. It crackled like a raging fire. Horrible noises broadcast down the hallway, terrifying my coworkers. Then, the screen went black. At home, I got no e-mail for about two months; then 5,000 came at one time.
"Start spr-eading the news. I'm leaving today. I'm gonna be a part of it, New York, New York!"
Summer is traditionally that time of easy living, lazy, crazy days and reunions. Some of us got cheated by life on the reunion feature. In my generation my family was so small that if we met for lunch, we'd had a reunion.
Many people still remember the small zoo that was in Propst Park but few recall the large private zoo that was once in Columbus.
After Katrina, they moved to Columbus to be near their only daughter. They had lost everything after 60 years of marriage, everything except each other.
If we had had a better-trained bomber a few months ago, we would have had a terrorist disaster in New York City when his car bomb exploded. That one didn't go off, but plenty do in many parts of the world. The international terrorist bombers now tend to be religious.
Several Columbians have been on the coast this past week. Terry and Anne Freeze spent a week eating, napping, sippin' and dippin.' Terry's brother Buck and his wife Millie joined them for supper one evening. They live in Lillian, Ala. Their grandson Zane is in the Coast Guard and has been stationed on a ship in Pensacola, Fla., doing oil-related work.
Well, Beyonce said it best. "If you like it then you should put a ring on it." So, I found myself doing what most "bffs" with innate fashion sensibility do ... helping Ashley find the way through the oftentimes confusing maze of planning a wedding.
June is considered a romantic month. More brides choose this month than any other. I'm not sure why they do. It certainly is not the prettiest, or the most temperate. Maybe it is because school has just ended and recent college grads can begin their new life with a new wife (or husband). It is a month for big changes.
While some of you may be singing "Take me out to the ballgame" and cheering on your favorite team, others may be singing 'take me out to the garden' and cheering on your favorite plant. Whatever your choice, this is the time to enjoy them.
I've got this place where I like to go to ponder. Some of you might have one, too. It's not so much that we need a special place for pondering; some places are just better suited for it than others. My place is "The Asphalt" -- not necessarily a name that conjures up an image of a tranquil setting conducive for contemplating one's place in the universe.
I recently presented a program to the Macon Rotary Club. Afterward I was asked if it was true that Columbus had once been in Alabama. My response was that it never had been located in Alabama, but the people of Columbus did once think that they were.
You weren't supposed to understand the secrets of the ancient Greek and Roman mystery cults in the times that they flourished, unless you were yourself an initiate.
A rusty hinge lay on the slanted concrete floor of the Columbus-Lowndes Humane Society. Director Karen Johnwick sighs, leans down and picks up the scrap, and shakes her head. "You can only put a Band-Aid on something for so long," she says despondently. "We don't want to spend money here; we want to invest in the new place."