Our Wednesday editorial on name change at Mississippi University for Women has drawn a flurry of online responses from many of the usual suspects. In that editorial, we again urged lawmakers and the public to proceed with a name change and to go with Reneau University, the name chosen through a long and painstaking process.
There’s gonna be a huge warehouse sale in Tupelo next week — and it ain’t on furniture. The state Tax Commission seized an estimated $20 million worth of smokes in a tax raid in April, and on Oct. 27, it plans to auction off its contraband to the highest bidders.
Two sisters Sunday a week ago in front of the Catholic Church in the drizzling rain two Korean women were gathering the fruit from the Ginkgo trees lining College Street. The women are sisters. They live in Tuscaloosa. The older one is wearing gloves; the younger one is using tongs. They have just come from Reese Orchards in Sessums where they have been picking persimmons, a fruit popular with Asians.
There comes a time for all of us when we finally feel our age. I turned 39 a few weeks ago. This is a birthday no one wants to celebrate. It’s much like 29, but 10 years worse. I recall, incredulously, that once, I actually wished to be older. Now, I want the clock to turn back, or at least slow down for a precious minute or two.
Written on Saturday, Oct. 3, prior to the MSU/Georgia Tech football game. “Nice to see the faculty raises being put to good use!” joked a school administrator to an MSU professor, referring to the huge banner of Coach Dan Mullen hanging along the side of one of the stadium ramps.
A new Census report out this week shows that Mississippi remains the poorest state in the nation, which comes as little surprise to anyone, especially those either without a job or cashing a meager paycheck each week. (We’re also the lowest-wage state in the nation.)
Saturday morning Gordon Parker leaned against a battered blue pickup truck loaded with Vardaman sweet potatoes. Parker, a truck farmer who lives in Hamilton, grows peas, tomatoes, okra, corn, butter beans and two types of pole beans, Louisiana purple pod and rattlesnake, which he sells at the Hitching Lot Farmers’ Market.
I’m starting to understand how people in Seattle must feel. The rain is here, and it won’t go away. When is the last time we had a clear day, sunup to sunup? At this point, it seems days like that never existed. Somewhere, children are gathered around a rocking chair as Grandpa spins a tall tale about how he once left his car sunroof open overnight, and nothing happened.
“I hate LSU!” These may very well be some of the very first words I ever heard. Still today, if you ever meet my parents (especially my mother), you'll hear them, too.
With the exception of the excerpt from Steve Rogers' column, the following quotes were taken from a Sept. 17 joint meeting of the Lowndes County Supervisors and the Columbus City Council to discuss the county's recreation needs. They were compiled by Birney Imes.
Saturday, after the rains, Patricia McKinley sat on the porch of her house listening to music and visiting with her daughter and a handful of friends. McKinley has lived in the house all her 48 years. It belongs to her 84-year-old grandmother, who still lives there. Located at the corner of Coretta and Seventh Avenue North, the house is among a sprinkling of structures in this forgotten corner of the city that may give way for the proposed city park/soccer complex.
I’m sorry to say it, but I miss the good ol’ days when nobody apologized. “Carry the battle to them,” Harry Truman famously said. “Don’t let them bring it to you. Put them on the defensive. And don’t ever apologize for anything.”
As a child growing up in the Church I learned the cute little children's song “Father Abraham” (and it's corresponding physical movements): Father Abraham had many sons, many sons had Father Abraham I am one of them and so are you, so let's just praise the Lord! Right arm! Left arm!
Olympia Dukakis says she only saw her father cry three times. When she was a teenager she asked him if she could get a job at the Dairy Queen. “No,” her father said, tears welling in his eyes. “Right now I want you to enjoy your youth. Don’t worry, you’ll work.”
I’m engaged in a project which is requiring me to take a personality test. If you’ve had access to the Internet for more than five minutes, then you’ve probably taken a baker’s dozen of tests and quizzes. Some are serious, like those that gauge healthy habits or depression. Online IQ tests are rampant and common.
Four years ago I was at home with my wife and sons, sleeping in my bed, and going on with the routines of my life up in Kentucky. Four years ago, Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, then levees broke and water inundated the city of my birth. My best friends from high school down in St. Charles Parish had been forced to scatter; I learned later that some were in Florida, many had gone to Texas, and others into the mid-west.
Sometimes all it takes is a picture. The most eagerly anticipated question of the just completed Columbus charrette was the recommendation on where to put the soccer complex the city and county want to build.
We were driving through West Point toward Columbus last weekend when I had the bright idea to make a detour past Old Waverley, which we’d never explored before.
It was as surreal a scene as I would ever experience. In the final days of the Soviet Union in the winter of 1991, my American air crew and I stood on the tarmac at Shermecheko airport outside Moscow intermingled with a cadre of a hundred Soviet soldiers, dressed in their full length Peter the Great coats, as they manually downloaded our C-5 cargo aircraft.
A couple of weeks ago my Commercial Dispatch column “Holy Health Care!” was picked up and carried in a few other newspapers. Something about it spoke to people.
1. Ask Rufus: Memorial Day LOCAL COLUMNS
2. Slimantics: Buses, food, tea and the National Anthem LOCAL COLUMNS
3. Steve Chapman: The long nightmare of the dreamers NATIONAL COLUMNS
5. Leonard Pitts: Trump supporters speak NATIONAL COLUMNS