Almost-native son James Autry ought to be known better in Mississippi. He's "almost-native" because while he grew up in Benton County, he was actually born in Memphis. I suppose that means Tennessee can claim him, too.
It was early in the morning as I sat in my "writing room," Sam left well before dawn for fishing. Pachelbel's "Canon in D" played softly in the background while the kittens batted one another and scurried under chair and table playing chase.
Sometimes it feels like we are in ancient Rome, not Mississippi.
It was an impulse buy. I had stopped by a convenience store on north side of town, for what I can't remember, and saw the baseball cap sitting on a shelf, covered with a fine film of dust.
Offset streets and city blocks across South Side and along Military Road and Waterworks on North Side show the footprints of Columbus' earliest days.
Of late a few people have commented on my political views, believing I have become less conservative. I find it amusing.
Who doesn't want to live better? Since the column on sauntering a few folks have shared ways they enjoy nature and its restorative benefits.
Not long ago a man walked up to me in Kroger and, in a barely audible voice, said, "My wife told me I ought to get in touch with you; I have something you might be interested in."
Students, parents and teachers have an opportunity for the next 30 days to weigh in on proposed changes to the diplomas offered to Mississippi's young people graduating from high school.
My grandchildren Harper and Sykes are visiting from Virginia and wanted to go hunting, dinosaur and shark hunting.
My friend and I met down by the Riverwalk along the Tombigbee River. We had already agreed this was to be a leisurely walk.
The new crop of Americans has several markers, experts say. One helps explain why fewer of them choose to live in Mississippi.
Late Tuesday afternoon five people are sitting in the living room of the small brick house Marion Fairchild shares with Joyce, his wife of 50-plus years.
In history books we read the big picture of important events, but all too often the details and working personalities behind those events are overlooked.
As you enter the town of Hamilton and turn onto Old Highway 45, the first thing you notice is the sprawling Tronox facility.
There's nothing wrong with being a Christian. In fact, I highly recommend it. There's also nothing wrong with people allowing their faith to inform their decision-making, in any sphere.
Passing by the raised beds, I noticed weeds popping up so I stopped, plucked a few, and flung them into the grass. Either Sam would mow over them or perhaps they would take root in the bare spots, but probably not.
Charlie Faulk was patient. As the first managing editor to shepherd me, he had to be. He's gone now -- 27 years -- but America and American journalism are in sore need of his gentle good humor and wisdom.
The three-foot-long rat snake sprawled across the entrance of the barn like he owned the place. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck tingle. "He's here for the mice, the rats," I said to myself. "That's a good thing; he means no harm to you."
Last week, I ventured south to spend a day at Episcopal Camp Bratton-Green, 9 miles north of Canton, at Way.
1. Voice of the people: Albert "Chance" Laws, M. D. LETTERS TO THE EDITOR (VOICE@CDISPATCH.COM)
3. Possumhaw: Them old cotton fields LOCAL COLUMNS
4. Editorial Cartoon for 10-16-17 NATIONAL COLUMNS