An email and a phone call Monday have convinced me to make a confession. The email came from city attorney Jeff Turnage, who asked about the identity of Spencer Smith, who wrote a scathing letter to the editor that was published in Monday's Dispatch on the city's hiring of J5/Broaddus as project manager.
The snake raised its head and looked at me -- and that was his second mistake. I'd been noticing the goldfish were disappearing over several days, so I knew he was somewhere in the pond. I stomped back to the house and told Sam my fish were disappearing and I had seen the snake.
It was 60 years ago that Dr. Norman Vincent Peale issued "The Power of Positive Thinking." In the decades since, other books, songs, plays and movies have extolled the virtues of making an affirmative choice to be optimistic.
I completely oppose the city's creation of a Project Manager position and the appointment of J5/Broaddus, a firm owned by the Mayor's campaign advisor and employing the Mayor's son, to that position.
During the winter Coach Brewer had his football players -- the ones who weren't playing basketball -- lifting weights, wrestling and playing handball. Our "handball courts" were defined by strips of masking tape on the gym floor. We would swat a racquetball against the concrete block walls of the gym. Good for eye-hand coordination and quickness, he told us. Most of the time, though, we goofed off.
One day last week, Keith Heard and his father dropped by for a visit and the discussion turned to Keith's great, great uncle, G.T. Heard, who with Judge Leopold Marx, constructed the Columbus street car line in 1906.
With southeast Mississippians paying 66 percent more for electricity and Southern Company writing off a billion dollars in losses, it's reasonable to conclude the Kemper lignite plant is not working out well.
Rachel sits on the ground by the road, leaning against the mailbox post. She watches the fire through the windows as it spreads from the sofa to the carpet and begins to crawl up the walls of the living room. Smoke seeps from underneath the closed windows in a slow exhale.
Roughly a half-million kids will descend on roughly 1,100 Mississippi public schools to begin the 2013-14 school year on Wednesday. I suspect it will be a controlled chaos and that most of what is learned Wednesday won't be found on the syllabus.
In Part I Sunday, Rachel awakes in the night to find her home being vandalized, hiding under the bed until the intruders have departed. Her brother, Stephen, urges her to leave for Ohio to live with their mother, leaving behind her meager life as a truck-stop waitress and every-scheming boyfriend, Dale, who is in Hattiesburg talking to some strangers about the dubious prospects of opening a buffalo ranching operation...
Sometimes you get a wild hair. I wish I could say it doesn't happen often, but frankly, it does.
Nine months and 1,100 miles ago, 18-year-old Alexandre Ledwith climbed into his $500 sailboat moored on the banks of the Mississippi at Trempealeau, Wis., and headed downstream.
Rachel crawls out from under the bed. She takes her robe from the hook on the closet door. She had awakened in the middle of the night and heard the voices outside the house, then heard the back door forced open, and she slipped out of bed and onto the floor, scurrying under like an insect.
This past week my Aunt Marietta McCarter died and it again brought to mind the continued passing of the "Greatest Generation.'
Drew and Carter Pack stood on the dock. Each, being boys of 7 and 4 years, had shed their shirts, shoes and socks. Drew, with fishing pole in hand, caught fish while Carter scooped minnows in a cup.
Paris, July 21 -- Everyone said the crowds would be horrendous. The woman at the front desk was unenthusiastic. Six cyclists from California who were drinking wine in the lobby of the hotel had been to the Champs-Elysees earlier in the day. They had seen the crowds and the giant flag draped from the Arc de Triomphe, and that was good enough for them. They would watch the finish on TV.
Occasionally an easy breeze blows through the tree canopy, and it feels cool. Other times, the wind is as still as death, the air so thick it's like pushing against a wall.
Tony had said he would give me a ride to the train station.
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