Chris Colley is a holy man who sleeps under bridges. This year he has also slept in a preacher's garage apartment and recently camped behind the farm shop of a Mennonite in Aberdeen. He's just finished reading a book about Daniel Boone and Abraham Lincoln he got while in Hopkinsville, Ky., but mostly he reads from a red, palm-sized Gideon's Bible.
Like some sort of airborne grasshopper, the yellow crop duster dips and swoops above the white fields. The flier has little to worry about here, one small clump of trees and a single row of power lines along a dusty gravel road. There is a hypnotic beauty to his dance; an upward loop and a flip and then he's again skimming across the tops of cotton plants, leaving a fine mist in his wake.
WASHINGTON -- The legacy of 9/11 can't be fully measured even now, but perhaps the most damaging aspect can be found in our national discourse.
The Fall looks to be an exciting season for the Mississippi University for Women. Unlike past years, there isn't much controversy surrounding MUW. The contentious proposals to merge the W with Mississippi State or to change its name are sidelined for now. The epic battle between past president Limbert and the alumni association, which climaxed when Limbert disassociated the university from the alumni association and started a new one, is over. After a herculean effort by Interim President Allegra Brigham, the united Alumni Association appears to be working well and focused on the W's future.
The moon vine in the backyard has entwined the empty chicken coop and is now launching an assault on the Mexican petunia next to it. The vine's large blooms are white and diaphanous, like tissues left on a make-up table in the dressing room of a Broadway star.
A recent trip to Young's DayCare brought back memories of my first book. Young's has a special place in my heart because of my daycare days, so being there always makes me a little nostalgic. What's more, my father and I were there to volunteer for the local affiliate of "First Books," a national organization dedicated to improving access to books for low-income children. Accordingly, the nostalgia reminded me of when I didn't like to read.
I wandered over to the pool this weekend looking for relief from the heat. But as I looked into the deep end and contemplated the cold shock that would accompany my leap into the water, I noticed a bright yellow tulip poplar leaf floating on the surface.
I am most sure you all have a good many friends. We all have friends that live down the street, across town and yes, some that have moved. When my friends from the "big" cities come home and ask, "How do you stay here?" I just have to say, "Well, my roots run deep, deep as the tree roots down College Street." I guess I do admire those that have pulled up and moved on to bigger places and I often wonder at the sights they must see and the things they must be doing. However, I am a Columbus girl for some 60 years and in a week, 61 years, so I guess I will just stay and enjoy my old familiar ways.
Trying to get information from a government agency can feel like being stuck in a maze that doesn't have an exit. First, there's the struggle to get someone to answer the phone. Even if the agency is supposed to be open, your call may strangely go unanswered.
Last week a photographer emailed me a picture he'd taken of the folk artist L.V. Hull of Kosciusko.
Tyrold Weston is about business. After more than 18 years of military service, including stints in the Navy and Army and tours in South Korea, Haiti, and Iraq, Tyrold retired from the military and moved home to start his first business: G.I. Hot Wings.
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