We crossed another of those parenting milestones this week, and to our credit, we were smart enough to notice.
Forty years ago in Duluth, Minn., a 4-year-old boy and his family watched as Americans first landed on the moon. After that July afternoon in 1969, the boy, David Teske, would never quite be the same.
Number 8. January 8, to be exact. It's Elvis' birthday. Number 8. Archie Manning wore the number 8 on his jersey. He is everyone's all-time favorite Saint. Speaking of the New Orleans Saints, at 13-3, they are undeniably one of the best teams in the NFL (so what if they lost these last three games?!) and are going into the playoffs. I'm pulling for them to make it into the Super Bowl.
It’s fitting that the Legislature is convening on what is predicted to be the coldest week of the year — maybe the coldest week in Mississippi ever.
Google “Blue Moon” and the first things that show up are a beer company (must be 21 years or older to access this Web site), a Wikipedia entry and a drive-in theater in Guin, Ala. (now showing double features on two screens).
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Columbus, Not a creature was stirring, not a possum among us. The stockings were hung by the Severstal stacks with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Had I remembered Monday was the winter solstice, I might have done something different than take a mid-afternoon stroll on the Riverwalk. Though, I’m not sure what that would have been. As far as I know, we have few practicing Pagans, Druids or anyone else in these parts who might be celebrating an event that has been observed through the millennia.
When asked if I killed anyone during the Vietnam War, I have to answer that I don’t know. I may have, and probably did, since my B-52 bomber crew dropped several thousand pounds of bombs on the Cambodia jungle, but I will never actually know.
“Walk slowly, I’ll catch up with you.” I had asked daughter Tanner if she wanted to walk and look at Christmas lights on Southside. First she had said no, then had a last minute change of heart and yelled to me as I walked out the door.
The New Orleans Saints have a perfect record and are serious contenders for the Super Bowl.
Who doesn’t like gift cards?
Recently I stood in the empty, torn-apart-for-renovation, “ship” my family sailed for over twenty years. I felt both melancholy and pride as I walked among the torn up carpet, barren, patched walls, and scattered debris from an incomplete move. This old girl was up in dry dock for repairs before her next family crew would launch on their life mission aboard her. She will soon be back at sea, but we will no longer be with her.
The evening may have been wet and the crowds sparse, but there was little evidence of dampened spirits at Monday night’s Christmas parade. Float riders (who may have outnumbered onlookers) waved and shouted, and the crowd waved back. Good cheer all around.
Most of us probably have a single Christmas that stands out.
One of the funniest guys you’re ever likely to meet is coming to Columbus Saturday.
Things sure have changed since I was in the Famous Maroon Band. Back in 1986, I was a trombonist (one of among 30-plus trombones) in the band. Dr. Kent Sills (or, “Doc”) was director of bands; Mr. Bob Taylor (“Mr. T”) was assistant director. MSU football legend Rockey Felker was in his first season as the Bulldogs’ head coach.
Friday afternoon as I was making my way down Military Road, a white El Camino passed me headed toward town. In the truck bed was a large piece of exercise equipment, price tags flapping in the wind.
For many, this long weekend is about family and friends, turkey and football, and most of all, gathering around a table and giving thanks. It’s also about shopping.
In 1889 the state of Georgia established in Milledgeville the Georgia Normal and Industrial College to prepare young women for secretarial and teaching jobs. (Five years earlier the Industrial Institute and College, the first state supported school for women in the country, was established in Columbus, Miss.)
Uncle Obed, from over in the northern Mississippi Delta, drove a mobile medic truck during World War II. His son, my cousin Ricky, says the stories Uncle Obed told resembled the chaos that was made famous by M*A*S*H (even though that was set in Korea). Uncle Obed returned from Europe and continued farming in the Delta.
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