Sitting on the homemade bench, my one hand rested on Rex's head. My fingers moved slowly and absentmindedly around his neck and over his long ears. The other hand held a book while I read to him.
When a Sunday school class needs to elect a treasurer, a name is put forward and everybody says "aye." That's that. Nice and simple.
Friday was the 70th anniversary of D-Day. It's a day when I always think of my Uncle Orman Kimbrough.
In the spring Columbus residents quietly and with little fanfare transform their town into an oversized botanical garden.
Barack Obama need not ask how well he's doing in coal country, because the answer is always the same: Not well.
Due to a last-minute alteration in the arrangements, I didn't arrive on the beachhead until the morning after D-day, after our first wave of assault troops had hit the shore.
I took a walk along the historic coast of Normandy in the country of France.
In the preceding column we told about the D-day wreckage among our machines of war that were expended in taking one of the Normandy beaches.
There was a jogger the other day trotting down Starkville's Main Street and he conjured up a dreadful case of jealousy that lingers even now.
You know you have a habit when you preform the behavior even without thinking about it. Case in point: Columbus city government.
It is irreversible now. And there's a word that should get everybody's attention.
When the state charter school authorizing board rejected a Columbus group's plans to open a charter school on Monday, we could not help but notice the irony found in the board's reasoning.
The exchange of five Guantanamo detainees for the release of Army Sgt. Bowe Bergdahl has reminded us of three unpleasant facts of life.
Today marks the end of one of the most regrettable political campaigns in recent Mississippi history.
At one time, people in India had to get on a waiting list to buy Hindustan Motors' Ambassador automobile, even though it was an obvious copy of Britain's Morris Oxford of some decades earlier.