Sometimes all it takes is a picture. The most eagerly anticipated question of the just completed Columbus charrette was the recommendation on where to put the soccer complex the city and county want to build.
We were driving through West Point toward Columbus last weekend when I had the bright idea to make a detour past Old Waverley, which we’d never explored before.
It was as surreal a scene as I would ever experience. In the final days of the Soviet Union in the winter of 1991, my American air crew and I stood on the tarmac at Shermecheko airport outside Moscow intermingled with a cadre of a hundred Soviet soldiers, dressed in their full length Peter the Great coats, as they manually downloaded our C-5 cargo aircraft.
A couple of weeks ago my Commercial Dispatch column “Holy Health Care!” was picked up and carried in a few other newspapers. Something about it spoke to people.
I'd like to address two rumors I've heard this week: first, that quarterback Brett Favre is retired; and second, that the upcoming 3rd Annual Pardon Johnny Cash Flower-Pickin' Festival in Starkville is dead.
This past weekend mine and Beth’s high school class — S.D. Lee High’s “Mighty Class of ‘69” — held its 40th reunion. We observed the usual roster of events: a Friday night gathering at Grahams’ Camphouse and Local History Museum (Jimmy and Jo Ann Graham are due much gratitude for sharing with the community this remarkable setting they’ve created.), a memorial service for classmates who have died and a Saturday night dance featuring Big Ben Atkins at the Country Club.
The 7-year-old walked too close to the swing set at school, and got clocked by a swinging kid — right in the teeth. I didn’t see the immediate aftermath, but it must have looked like a scene from “Carrie.” Somehow she managed to bleed on her socks.
My cousin, Jenene, is joining the faculty of the University of Illinois at Springfield. She tells people she graduated from “The W,” which is and shall always be, true. But when people try to look up “The W” from now on, they’ll have a hard time finding it.
One thing can be said about the health care debate: Watching it makes me ill. While I’ve tried to read up, I’m no expert. Another disclaimer: I’m a middle-of-the-road guy as far as politics are concerned — I tend to like things that politicians in each party say from time to time.
I write from a perspective of faith. Sometimes I write in broad, general terms, but today I am writing to all in the Golden Triangle region who identify themselves as Christians. To the pastors and teachers, bishops and priests, deacons and elders, and to all who enter church doors week after week, let us affirm a common belief: Each and every person is created in the image of God.
Tomorrow on the campus of Mississippi University for Women an unveiling of sorts will take place. At a convocation service Monday morning MUW President Claudia Limbert is going to announce the school's new name. Well, sort of, more like the hoped-for new name. The name Limbert will offer -- decided after innumerable campus meetings, focus groups, marketing studies and much spirited debate in these and other opinion pages -- is being touted as the choice of the campus community. But, as Limbert has said, this is a state issue, not a campus issue.
We’re neck deep in the First Day of School. The kids are outfitted, supplies have been bought and delivered, and I’m helping them out of the car to join the throngs of new classmates. All that remains is the completing of ten months of this until we get a few weeks’ rest, then do it all over again.
Burglaries, larceny, robberies, violent crime - we read about it every day. Our media is full of the images and sounds of society ills. It is the lead story daily. It has often been said, “If it bleeds, it leads.” Crime is always on the top of everyone’s concerns and is often the topic of community debate.
One of the best concerts I've ever been to was on April 22, 1992, at the amphitheater on Mississippi State's campus. It was the Allman Brothers Band with Blues Traveler, and it was incredible. I even have “bootleg” cassettes of that show (if anybody has upgraded this show to digital, I'd be glad to provide a couple of blank CDs . . .).
Friday afternoon Raymond Griggs sits on an empty five-gallon lacquer thinner can under twin 100-year-old red oaks. The trees shade a corner of the Quonset hut where he has refinished and repaired antique furniture for more than a quarter of a century.
I’ve always wondered where the real Air Force lives.
Last Thursday I was so excited that I almost could not work! It was one of my “deposit” days at the junkyard and I can only hope that I got it right – in this day and age we need every dollar to count. Well, anyway, like I said, I was so excited because I was going to get to take my grandson, Coleman, to the uptown fire station to see the firemen and their fire trucks. My other half, Mike, had arranged with Ken Moore, the Fire Chief, to let us give Cole a first-hand look at one of the finer things about Columbus. We had to be there at 6:30 in the afternoon – I did not want to interfere with the firemen’s supper hour.
I never truly knew the color green until I moved to Mississippi.
My uncle has a lake on his land near Canton, stocked with bass and bluegill; he loves to fish, and my kids, in turn, are learning to love it too.
A funny thing happened during church one night: We were invited to participate in karaoke, with the promise that everyone who sings gets a free shot of whatever liquor they want.
1. Possumhaw: Tumbling into a fall LOCAL COLUMNS
4. Our View: Not discussing the 'divorce' is terrible for Pilgrimage DISPATCH EDITORIALS
5. Editorial cartoon for 10-21-19 NATIONAL COLUMNS