For a full quarter-century now, the Annie E. Casey Foundation has issued news releases calling Mississippi the absolute worst or almost the absolute worst place to be a child in America.
Monday, black and white citizens of West Point gathered at First Baptist Church to pray for Ralph Weems IV, who was badly beaten in the parking lot of the Huddle House restaurant in the early-morning hours of Aug. 24.
The ladies and I were sitting in the sunroom as each of us was asked to name something we were thankful for. I said, "Today I saw a butterfly."
When our almost 8-year-old grandson, Benjamin, announces he's ready to go to Dudy Noble, he initiates a time-honored sequence of events. He goes and gets a metal bat and a small cloth bag containing six to 10 worn-out tennis balls, and I begin looking for my shoes.
Blues is a great unifier. A week ago there was a horrible incident in West Point that threatened to create divisions within the community. However, on Friday night in West Point, blues brought people of all sizes, shapes and colors, from all over the United States and even several foreign countries together.
I was channel surfing through a morning program not too long ago and stopped long enough to hear a guest discussing meditation with the CBS hosts. There was the obligatory Harvard doctor who was doing research on the benefits of meditation and then there was a hip-hop mogul who was hawking his book on the subject.
The school funds lawsuit former Gov. Ronnie Musgrove is spearheading isn't complicated. It's simple litigation -- a petition for a declaratory judgment.
As I have mentioned before, I am not a huge Facebook user. I have a page, but I always thought the best use for Facebook is getting "Happy Birthday" wishes from long-lost friends and being able to say thank you for them en masse.
It was time to glean leftover hay and stuff it in a black garbage bag. I always wear black rubber boots, summer or winter. You never know what you might encounter in the fields, and I feel safer with the rubber boots rather than, say, flip flops.
During the first years of Columbus' growth and expansion, some early settlers tried to bring a little of the refinement of the east coast to the new town.
Wednesday in the aisles of Kroger I ran into a high school friend I had not seen in years, Joey Hendrix. As a civil engineer with the Army Corps of Engineers, Joey's career included postings in Vicksburg, Baghdad and New Orleans. He is now retired and has come home to take care of his mother, who lives in New Hope.
Pete Creekmore sits in a chair in his upstairs office at Rae's Jewelers on Tuesday afternoon, hunched over his microscope, examining two quarters that have one "head" between them or, if you prefer, three "tails."
It was nightfall when I slipped to the garden to spy on the parsley. I hoped to catch the caterpillars sleeping. Their tiny heads were nodded forward; they appeared to be sleeping, as everything sleeps.
Nothing ever seems to get thrown away on Downs Road. Sofas, tables, tires, broken toys, long strips of waterlogged insulation, boxes and overstuffed black garbage bags -- all left to the weeds to obscure and nature to absorb. This seems to apply even to some of the homes along this little street that connects Mike Parra Road and Land Road in north Lowndes County.
Last week there was a spectacular full moon. The news media called it a super moon. While its size and the earth's being at its closest point to the moon might justify the name, it actually was the Green Corn Moon.
There is something different about this place, all right. We would have a hard time counting the number of letters we've received over the years from visitors delighted, if not bewildered by the over-the-top servings of Southern hospitality they enjoyed while passing through our lovely ville.
The following is a response to Birney Imes' column of Aug. 10 titled, "An open letter to Mayor Smith." On Aug. 6, 2014, the Mayor and City Council of Columbus had a budget meeting. In that meeting the Council deadlocked on a number of issues related to some important pay raises for some of the City's valuable employees.
Each season has its own special character. Summer always was and I guess to me it always will be June, July and August, the months when school was out.
As midday neared on a cool July day in Mississippi (strange as that sounds), a 91-year-old hopped (strange as that sounds) up the stage steps, approached and embraced the lectern at the Neshoba County Fair.
On Aug. 5, we published a story on the renovations currently being made at the Kroger store on Highway 45. I didn't write that story, nor was it the story I had hoped to write.
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