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Columns

  • Holes left by the Cat Herder

    Have you ever known someone who, at times, you wanted to put your hands around their neck and shake them until their teeth rattled? BUT, there were times you wanted to hold that same person in a close embrace and not let go?

    That’s been my relationship for over eight years with Chiefland Citizen editor Lou Elliott Jones.

    Now that Lou is hanging up the pica pole and proportion wheel (only something old-time newspaper people will understand), I’ll be able to do a lot more of that embracing.

  • It's time

    Just in case you have not heard, this is my final column as editor of the Chiefland Citizen and Cedar Key Beacon. I gave my notice in mid-November and have been telling people the good news since.

    I am out the door on Friday, Jan. 27. At 64 I am taking the opportunity to enjoy some of the things my present occupation does not allow. That would include:

    being home for and cooking dinner in the evening, going out of town without having to time it for when there are no assignments, and polishing my skills at herding cats.

    This is a short list.

  • As good as it gets

    I once kept a journal. I wrote in it every day, even if it was only a sentence that summarized the day.

    Then I had two babies under two years old, and the entries became less frequent.

    When those babies started school, I entered the workforce full-time and between home and work, there wasn't much time for writing – other than what I got paid for.

  • If it's December then I'm already done-in

    It's only Dec. 5 and I'm ready to throw in the towel.

    Despite all my good intentions, time is getting away from me and there's no way to recoup what I've lost and no way to get ahead of what needs to be done.

    It all started back in November – Veterans Day to be exact.

  • Their stories need to be told

    The first time I came to Williston was Veterans Day 2005.

    I was living and working in Chiefland and I volunteered to cover an event in Heritage Park.

    I didn't know what to expect. I'd been in Florida about three months and had never even ventured to Williston.

    I was not disappointed.

  • It's not funky without 'fun'

     When Tom and I started traveling more by air than land for our vacations, I learned quickly how important it is to be organized and how essential it is to cram as much as you can carry when you board a plane.

    We were in an airport somewhere when I spied what I thought was the perfect solution – an Ogio backpack that didn't look as if I were ready for the Appalachian Trail.

  • It's who we are

    I've always been a traditionalist. I suppose that goes along with not liking surprises. I like knowing what's going to happen. I don't like guessing about what ifs and I like having a plan of action.

    I've become a little less rigid since Tom and I have been married, because he is the Master of Spontaneity. He likes nothing better than hitting the open road and searching for hotels at midnight. 

  • Put up the cords, Dobby's here

     I've never owned a puppy before but in two short months, I've learned that puppies – like babies – should be had when you're young.

    Ever since Tom has been on the DL – about a year now – we've bandied about the idea of a dog that would be a companion for him while I am either at work, or visiting grandchildren.

  • Little sleep, but who cares?

     I'm tired. Plain and simple, I'm tired, perhaps even bordering on exhausted. As I write this, I'm sitting at my daughter's dining room table while the lull of the ceiling fan drones in my ear. My grandpup, Iago, is among the lucky – he's catching a nap on the back of the sofa.

  • How can anyone survive so much joy?

    I came late to the Grandmother Party. By the time my 30th high school reunion rolled around, I was one of the few in my entire class who didn't have a grandchild. I was amazed that one of my classmates already had six – at 48 years old. But then again, she did have two sets of twins.

    My youngest child was the first to marry, followed six months later by my oldest child. Only the middle child remains in a content state of solitude.