This Thanksgiving marks an anniversary for a particularly difficult time, probably one of my most traumatic days. I have the gift of not remembering the bad things so when something stands out, it is for a reason.
In the 1960s, Tupelo was an Ole Miss town. This was especially true in east Tupelo, my part of town, and Lawhon Elementary school, where I attended first through eighth grade.
I heard the news recently of John Doar's passing.
Next week brings the American Thanksgiving holiday and for most of us a wonderful feast.
Friday morning started out with a small crisis. We were out of coffee and I had a gathering to attend before 7. The downtown shop I frequent doesn't open until 7:30, so I headed out 45 for a national coffee chain that takes its name from a character in Moby Dick. (The company, I learned on the Internet, was almost named for the whaling ship in the story, Pequod.)
There are differing ideas about the recently proposed ban on allowing dogs in public cemeteries in Starkville.
The Egg Bowl was played Wednesday on the Mississippi State campus and for time first time ever, it didn't matter who won or lost.
The public hearing had just ended. As Tommie Cardin was packing up for his drive back to Jackson, Darren Leach approached him and made what seemed to me a curious comment.
Mississippians will be able to tell whether the criminal indictment faced by Christopher Epps means anything by how the 2015 edition of the Mississippi Legislature reacts.
Shirley, my walking partner turned house sitter, reported all went well at the Prairie house while we were away. She had only one scare when she feared Jack, the cat, had expired on the sofa.
"Since time memorial the Choctaw Indians have lived in Mississippi, and have made baskets of the reed cane which grows in the swamps of the south." So begins a ca. 1920 letter from Mrs. J.E. Arnold, a Baptist missionary to the Choctaw in Union.
In 1953 the French writer Jean Giono published a thin volume, titled, "The Man Who Planted Trees." The story's narrator, hiking alone in the south of France, comes upon a desolate, treeless valley covered in wild lavender. The year is 1910.
On Nov. 1, 1980, John Bond became a king and I became one of his subjects.
From the front porch I studied the lake and the fields and deer grazing along the tree line.
It is a simple marble military headstone in a sea of more than a thousand white marble military headstones. It is not a soldier, though, who is buried there.
There are the obvious, direct and immediate benefits of having a strong national standing for your football team. And there are some indirect benefits.
As with many public policies, the idea of a government-set minimum wage started small.
I despise country music and I'm not too keen about the music you generally hear in church, either. This was not always the case.
Let's pause in praise of nurses.
Sam said the Saints game would be over in 5 minutes 29 seconds and then we could go for a bike ride but I'd been around that block before and I knew that a televised game of 5 minutes would be at least another 30 so I headed out to the lake.
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