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."
Jimmy and Joann Graham hosted a post-Pilgrimage appreciation party at their Sykes Place compound last Thursday evening.
I guess I never anticipated getting to this spot, never thought ahead far enough to imagine one of my grandchildren getting married. I knew they would grow up, of course, that I, too, would get older. I just ignored the fact. Actually, in many ways I still do.
They say you can't buy love. For the most part, that is true. There are many examples of love that is "purchased." I'm not talking about the "oldest profession." I'm thinking more of people (both genders) who marry for, or because of, money.
My first house had a porch, and every house since then has had a porch. My grandma's house had a porch. Porch people begat porch people.
"Close your eyes, bend over, and let me know if the water's too hot." Before your imagination runs away with you, allow me to interpret those words.
South Pacific is a musical set in the naval war in the Pacific during World War II. There were no musicals about the naval war in the Atlantic. Richard Snow, in his book, "A Measureless Peril: America in the Fight for the Atlantic, the Longest Battle of World War II" (Scribner), points out the difference.
My house is filled with noises. "Things ... go bump in the night" ... and the day. Most of the time, we know it is only squirrels in the attic. They clatter through the walls and rattle around the spaces next to fireplaces.
These are some top "cop" stories from when I was the liaison between a charity organization and law enforcement, a little peek behind closed doors.
Women gather. Well, that's what my daddy always said and still to this day can be heard mumbling, "Humph, women gather and just gossip 'bout nuthin'."
Today marks the 66th anniversary of D-Day and it brings to mind the role that people from our area played in World War II. Though World War II seems like old history now, I grew up surrounded by relatives to whom it was very real.
Local author Deborah Schumaker's recent house guests were her son Matthew, his wife Malena Watrous and their 2 year-old son Max from San Francisco.
Remember Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha? Well ... they're back! Sex is "in the city" again! As I write this column, I am the proud holder of two tickets to the midnight premiere of "Sex and the City II,", after waiting feverishly through a month or two of seeing the same preview each time we went to the movies -- which we do a lot.
People in the Black Prairie have always taken pride in their history and their Barbecue. Very few, though, realize how close history and barbecue are tied.
You probably saw the smoke that Friday morning. It was hard to miss. For a while it seemed that the entire Southside was in danger of becoming an inferno.
One Friday my friend, Caryl, and I packed a picnic and set out for Caledonia. On a previous trip I had gotten lost in Caledonia and ended up driving round and round in the dark until I saw a church with lights on. I went inside where I beheld a group of men and announced, "I'm lost."
It was the summer of 1989 and I had just said goodbye to all my friends from high school, nervous about my two possible choices for a future: the one my daddy wanted so badly for me and the one I was destined to live out.