We use the term "dramatic irony" in plays when the audience learns from one character something that another character does not know, usually to his detriment. In the field of history, the reader always knows more than the people he's reading about. He knows how the whole thing turns out -- something the historical figures cannot know.
The big story from Tuesday's Starkville Board of Aldermen meeting was supposed to be about compromise. However, the board's defeat of a proposal that would have banned cellphones at board meetings was overshadowed by Ward 2 Alderman Lisa Wynn's childish attack upon Greater Starkville Development Partnership CEO Jennifer Gregory.
On Nov. 19, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln rose to deliver a short speech as part of the dedication ceremony of The Gettysburg National Cemetery, located on a part of a battlefield where more than 50,000 soldiers had died than five months earlier.
Ladybugs swarmed by the thousands. They whirled around the porch ceiling; they crawled on the side of the house, the garage, the boat shed. Ladybugs landed on our arms. When one took flight, three took its place.
I am frequently asked where I find the details of the stories in my column. Sometimes things just link together. A couple of weeks ago my column dealt with the construction of Andrew Jackson's Military Road. One problem with a column that only runs around 800 words is the inability to fully provide background material. So today I will delve into seemingly unrelated accounts that link together and help tell the story of the Military Road and the founding of Columbus.
Sometime in the spring of 1986 the town of Crawford threw a party for one of its native sons, Jerry Rice. After a dazzling college career as a wide receiver at tiny Mississippi Valley State University, Rice had been drafted first round by the San Francisco 49ers. Jerry Rice Appreciation Day was a decidedly homespun affair. There was a parade featuring two Cadillacs. One of them, a salmon-colored convertible, had a front tag proclaiming, "My Other Car is a Cadillac." The event culminated at an unkempt park. A troupe of break-dancers in red sateen outfits performed some impressive acrobatics on flattened refrigerator boxes and then a few people made speeches.
The greatest words any American ever said were spoken by a gaunt, war-haunted man in a tiny Pennsylvania college town 150 years ago Tuesday.
BATON ROUGE, La. -- I am winding my way down to the Louisiana Capitol basement, trying to find House Committee Room 6, which is as exciting as it sounds and not evident by the crowds gathering to hear me read.
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