In 1996, shortly after making the move from Mississippi to Northern California, I had the opportunity to attend the Stanford-Cal football game, known around the Bay Area as "The Big Game."
Which government operation is the big winner in a draft of next year's budget? Education? Roads and highways? Health care? Nope. The answer is prisons.
"Standing in the checkout line, I watched as a white-haired lady began to put her groceries on the conveyor belt. She caught my attention because her sweater was funky and full of life. She'd already put a few items on the counter when the cashier said, 'I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm closing."
There was a huge fire at Columbus on the night of Nov. 25, 1865. It destroyed the former Confederate Arsenal Building, which is southeast of the old Marble Works. The building had been taken over by the occupying Federal troops and was being used to store property seized as having belonged to the Confederate government.
Something in the air changes as the first leaves begin to fall and the holiday season nears; we began to pay closer attention to things we take for granted the rest of the year. One of those things, the generosity of this community and its willingness to work together for a greater good, was made clear to me on Thursday.
About two-thirds of the way through Thursday's Egg Bowl, after watching Mississippi State and Ole Miss perform their version of "Punt, Pass and Kick" minus the "punt"and "pass" parts, I left my seat in the pressbox at Davis Wade Stadium for the dining area. It was there that I discovered what it must have felt like to be the last dinosaur to roam the face of the earth.
Last year I lived in Jacksonville, Fla., and at the corner store near our home there was a man who regularly sat hunched beneath a pay phone. I saw him a lot while coming home from work. He was terribly thin and always in tattered clothing. It would be O.K. to call him homeless.
In a letter to a church he had founded, the Apostle Paul made a series of suggestions. One was to "pray without ceasing." Several years ago, a friend and I had a long talk about what that meant.
A couple of weeks ago, Butterball, one of the nation's largest turkey suppliers, announced that it would have a shortage of large turkeys available for Thanksgiving.
One ladybug chased the other, and this made me think that perhaps I had captured a male and a female. I'm no entomologist, but I'm thinking maybe.
It's a strange feeling when you see your journalistic work wind up in the book of a leading presidential candidate.
About 10 years ago Dispatch pressmen Jerry Hayes and Jamie Morrison found a litter of kittens nestled between the walls in the basement. Hayes, now retired, and Morrison worked in the dark, cavernous space that houses our Goss Urbanite printing press.
When I started writing this piece I had just a basic thought in mind, but after the media blitz associated with Alderman Roy Perkins' proposal to ban all electronic media from the Starkville Board of Aldermen meetings, it took on a new life and intensity.
Three years ago marked the beginning of a series of the bicentennials of the events leading directly to the founding of Columbus. November of 1813 was a month in which those events linked directly with one of greater national significance. That story is told in the nation's newspapers of the day.
The world has turned over many times since that fateful day in Dallas 50 years ago when President Kennedy was killed. Anyone who was old enough to understand what happened knows exactly where they were and what they were doing when they first heard the president was dead.
We use the term "dramatic irony" in plays when the audience learns from one character something that another character does not know, usually to his detriment. In the field of history, the reader always knows more than the people he's reading about. He knows how the whole thing turns out -- something the historical figures cannot know.
Ladybugs swarmed by the thousands. They whirled around the porch ceiling; they crawled on the side of the house, the garage, the boat shed. Ladybugs landed on our arms. When one took flight, three took its place.
I am frequently asked where I find the details of the stories in my column. Sometimes things just link together. A couple of weeks ago my column dealt with the construction of Andrew Jackson's Military Road. One problem with a column that only runs around 800 words is the inability to fully provide background material. So today I will delve into seemingly unrelated accounts that link together and help tell the story of the Military Road and the founding of Columbus.
Sometime in the spring of 1986 the town of Crawford threw a party for one of its native sons, Jerry Rice. After a dazzling college career as a wide receiver at tiny Mississippi Valley State University, Rice had been drafted first round by the San Francisco 49ers. Jerry Rice Appreciation Day was a decidedly homespun affair. There was a parade featuring two Cadillacs. One of them, a salmon-colored convertible, had a front tag proclaiming, "My Other Car is a Cadillac." The event culminated at an unkempt park. A troupe of break-dancers in red sateen outfits performed some impressive acrobatics on flattened refrigerator boxes and then a few people made speeches.
1. Our View: New Caledonia board has unique opportunity DISPATCH EDITORIALS
2. Steve Chapman: Curbing traffic stops would save lives NATIONAL COLUMNS
3. Editorial cartoons for 7-21-17 NATIONAL COLUMNS