I grew up in the “olden days” as my grandkids would say, before such delights as Books on Tape
We live in a pastoral little hamlet, Widdle Baby and I.
It was 42 years ago this month that my wife, Margaret, and I and our two pre-school age children rolled into Summerville from Atlanta to make a new …
It’s amazing where really good recipes can come from. I’ve actually gotten one at a church service (don’t ask!), off a pumpkin pie can label, and …
Life as I know it has become manifested in the dim, blinking brake lights in the distance, having left me behind.
I have to stop watching HGTV. It’s giving me a complex.
For the second time in a month, the S.C. Supreme Court has ruled against openness and punted important issues back to the Legislature for change. …
Never let it be said that I’m not a sentimental guy.
Well I must admit that I have been surprised at the amount of response, both pro and con, that I have received regarding my comments on the play …
“I’m at the airport with six kids, 12 pieces of luggage and eight carry-ons! Want to change places?”
Remember the mean kids in high school? The ones who did mean stuff to impress their mean friends, then laughed about it, because they were mean?
For those of you who have not followed or participated in our effort to develop a Vision Plan for the town of Summerville, let me update you. The …
There’s this stranger who yells at noisy kids, shakes his fists at speeders in the neighborhood, glares at youngsters who thump the subwoofers in …
She was blonde from birth and had big chocolaty eyes and a bright pink tummy, so much so that early on she was dubbed “Miss Pinkness.”
Sometimes I watch life go by and think, “Wow, I haven’t been surprised in a while.”
Oakbrook is beginning to get some much needed attention. There are several plans forming for the future; for now I would like to share some things that have already occurred.
The year: 1952. The state: Georgia. National news: the presidential election. Personal news: I was in high school and about to cast my first ballot.
I’d like to thank all who have written, called, visited, emailed and texted since my mother’s death. You’ve soothed me and made me remember the good times. Some of you posed interesting questions. So, here are the answers — and a few memories you might enjoy.
Recently I used this space to write about the litter problem that plagues our community and state. I heard from a number of you who are concerned about it and the message it says about our sense of pride.
For years as a working mother I’d spend spend nearly every weekend following my personal menu formula for the upcoming week: make one roast, one casserole and one crockpot recipe. Eat each twice, freezing any leftovers for lunches or a smorgasbord and fill in with an evening breakfast.