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Columns

  • It's disposal time

    By the time you read this, I’ll be on a plane bound for Ohio to visit family I haven’t seen in more than a decade. It’s a trip long overdue, but in preparation for it this past weekend, I finally came to the realization there’s something else long overdue in my life–cleaning house....really cleaning house.
    I was looking for some old family photographs to take with me, and in addition to more than 10,000 prints (thank God for digital photography), I found a sundry of papers, receipts and things that once upon a time I thought I might need in the distant future.

  • My once in a lifetime trip

    A couple weeks ago, I went on the Levy County Safety Patrol Annual Trip to Washington D.C. All the Safety Patrols had lots of fun.
    I was with the Williston Safety Patrols. My mom was really proud of me and my brother, Glynn, who was part of the first Williston Elementary Safety Patrols.
    We went from June 20-24. We had four buses from Levy County, and out of that Williston had two buses alone, Bus “One” and Bus “Two.”

  • Who knew? I am the average American family

    The next time your favorite TV program is cancelled, you might want to go next door and blame your neighbor.
    As long as I can remember, the majority of the programming that I have enjoyed has been cancelled, sometimes before a full season has been aired. The list is endless, but I’ve always said, if I like it, it won’t last.
    And who’s to blame? Those darn Nielsen ratings.

  • Name dropping

    I have friends in high places. How’s that for a changeabout from Garth Brooks’ best selling song?
    But it’s true. I have been blessed to have friends and acquaintances who have been successful in their many diverse careers. One of the luxuries of being successful is one often meets people of note–celebrities.
    However, I have learned over the years that the more successful you are, the less likely you are to be a name dropper. And I like that.

  • Never a ‘daddy’s girl’ but forever his daughter

    He was always Daddy. While many children outgrow the baby name for their fathers, I never did. He was never Father, Da, Pops, Dad or Papa. He was always Daddy and this year marks the 18th Father’s Day that I haven’t bought a card, made his favorite German chocolate cake or called him to say I love you.
    That hurts. Although time has made his death more bearable, there is still an ache that cannot be assuaged, a longing that rips at my heart almost every day and a void that will never be filled.

  • Love is ageless

    As I write this, it is Clint Eastwood’s 81st birthday. How can that be? I asked myself when I first read it.
    Surely that cannot be right. Rowdy Yates is an old man? No  . . .
    But then I looked at his birth year and it hit me. Hard.
    The man I adored when I was a child is a year older than my father.
    Is that possible?

  • Love is ageless

    As I write this, it is Clint Eastwood’s 81st birthday. How can that be? I asked myself when I first read it.
    Surely that cannot be right. Rowdy Yates is an old man? No  . . .
    But then I looked at his birth year and it hit me. Hard.
    The man I adored when I was a child is a year older than my father.
    Is that possible?

  • After my weekend, I advocate eloping

    Ashley Matthews is now Ashley Drake. That was the easy part. The path that led to that to that occurrence was more involved, more chaotic, more expensive. I doubt Will and Kate had such raucous nuptials.
    But I’m getting the cart before the horse. Allow me to gee-haw, turn around.
    Almost two weeks ago if you will remember, I went to Beaufort, S.C. to  hold the mother-of-the bride’s hand and to ensure she showed up for the marriage vows of her oldest child.

  • Looking for my muse in Beaufort

    My column writing has gotten rusty. Maybe because my brain is a little more rusty than usual. I lack inspiration. I lack joie de Vivre.

     I can’t write without inspiration. My inspiration comes from my  joie de Vivre. It takes a lot to inspire me these days–not so much to enthuse me. But truth-to-tell I am just too tired to be enthused.

    I’m hoping this weekend will put a new spring in my step.

    I am being reunited with the other half of my brain cell–best friend, Denise.

  • ‘You look just like your mother’

    After church this past Sunday, Tom and I drove to a local diner for a quick snack since we bypassed breakfast and couldn’t wait until I shopped and cooked at home.
    As we settled in, other groups filtered in–a good amalgam for Easter lunch: young couples, older adults, families with small children.
    But it was the group of four women who took the table beside us that caught–and held–my eye.
    They were all late 60s, early 70s, and each was different in size, shape, hair style and fashion sense.