A few weeks ago I looked out the window only to see the earth moving. Then out from under the fallen oak leaves scattered across the field, hundreds of robins popped forth, foraging for worms. Robins move ahead of warm fronts, and the rains had made the ground soft, easier for digging worms.
Just when I thought we had bottomed out and were surely on the upswing toward some peaceful and non-contentious period with the current term of the Starkville Board of Aldermen, somebody handed alderman Lisa Wynn a really big shovel and a treasure map.
Next time you hear someone say, "I'd rather not know," ask the person to pause and think about it.
A couple of weeks ago I took a short drive from the Prairie, and a disturbing thing happened. I've pondered it ever since.
Last week at a Regional Foundation for Mental Health meeting I heard a most interesting story.
In the Sandfield Community, not far from the intersection of 23rd Street and Fifth Avenue South, there is an abandoned slab of concrete about 30 feet square. On the east and west edges of the square are light poles with "Keep Out" signs on them. At one time, the place served as a basketball court for neighborhood kids.
There seems to be a growing trend in some parts of the country for some people to visit retail stores openly wearing guns. It recently happened at a Kroger in Virginia where the store manager asked them to leave the property.
Today, the Mississippi Senate and House will vote on a pair of bills previously passed by the other chambers that would establish a voucher system to allow parents of special-needs students to enroll children in private schools where, at least theoretically, those students to have a better chance at earning a high school diploma.
For the second time in a week the ground was covered with snow and ice. The first storm left mounds of snow covering outbuildings, vehicles and piling right up to the lake water's edge. The pristine snow made the white ducks look dingy.
People often ask me not some question about history but where do the ideas for my columns come from.
Ed Phillips looked like a man you might have seen sauntering down the gangplank of a Mississippi riverboat at the foot of Canal Street sometime in the mid-1800s. Barrel chested, uncommonly handsome and with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, Ed would have been a more-than-adequate stand-in for Clark Gable in that actor's most memorable role. Ed died Saturday a week ago. He was 80.
When the two terrorist killings happened in France, we were all glued to our TVs. First was the attack Wednesday morning Jan. 7 at the Paris office of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine where eight journalists, two policemen and two other people were shot and killed. The next morning a policewoman was killed by a second terrorist south of Paris.
I learned of Ed's passing while onboard a small yacht in Keppel Marina in Singapore in a brief email from my dear friend Capt. Sid Caradine, obviously sent well after Sid's normal early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise routine.
Tuesday evening, the Columbus City Council appointed two members to the Columbus Municipal School District - Stephen Jones and Currie Fisher.
Imagine being a farmer. Imagine plowing, sowing and, when the time is right, harvesting your best crop ever.
Dan Mullen breezed into the Starkville Country Club 15 minutes late for his speaking engagement at the Starkville Rotary Club.
On days when fishing is out of the question and the 24/7 news has taken its circuitous route about dozen times and the SEC channel is showing decades-old football games, Sam opens a book.
Maybe it strains the limits of plausibility to claim to have found a penny in front of a place called "Down to the Penny Accounting Tax Service," but there on the sidewalk was Honest Abe in profile. Not one to shun the prospect of good luck, I bent over and picked it up.
At the most recent MLK equality march I had an acquaintance pause long enough to ask me to talk with him about a homeless shelter for Starkville.
My grandfather was a share-cropper in Tippah County, a widower trying to raise six daughters in the height of The Great Depression.
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