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Columns

  • Their legacy was sisterhood

     My maternal grandparents left a long legacy–seven children and 29 grandchildren.

  • Ponderable

     The lawn mower is silent. There is no clanging of a hammer as it  beats against a machine, or nail, or tree. Palm fronds have fallen unceremoniously to the ground during the brisk March gusts and lay there yet as April comes into being with a promise of a hot summer.

  • Sydney and beyond

    By Susan Howell

     No grass grew under my feet once I landed at Sydney International Airport. After almost 24 hours spent in travel, I was quickly whisked away at the airport by my son, where we boarded a train that took us over to Sydney Harbor, where we then transferred onto a ferry which would take us over to Manly Beach. Reality set in as the ferry cruised past the historic Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbor Bridge– “I’m in Australia.”

  • Farewell

    As this outstanding basketball teams season comes to an end, I too, am saying “So long.”  

    Over the last 7 1/2  years, I have had the distinct privilege to cover some of the most outstanding, well mannered young men and women participating in high school sports today. I am speaking of the young men and women in Williston, who are proud to be called Red Devils.

    From football to basketball, volleyball and softball, baseball, and the cheerleaders.  And I certainly won't forget the annual Award Banquets I have covered.

  • Far from home

    Susan Howell  

    On an early December morning, I awoke some 10,000 odd miles from my own backyard, to the unfamiliar sound of wild birds that filled the Australian sky as the sun rose on Manly Beach, a hustling coastal suburb in Sydney Australia. 

  • Enchanted

    By Susan Howell

  • How I slept through Christmas and suddenly it was 2013

     Everyone who knows me understands that the time between Thanksgiving and New Year is my time. I relish the season for so many different reasons and actually anticipate it like a child.

  • A reason, a season, a lifetime

     The year was 2008. Tom had just moved to Florida, we were living in a duplex in Chiefland and the time was right to start looking for a house.

    We both worked in Chiefland but Harriett Downs’ ad on the back of the Williston Pioneer spoke to us one week when the right house at the right price said, “Call.”

  • Filty rich and lovin' it

    By the time you read this, I will not be a millionaire. I did not win the Powerball–again.
    But then again, I never bought a ticket. This time or ever.
    I know. I know. You can’t win if you don’t play. It never occurs to me to buy a ticket–not even when the jackpot is half a billion dollars.
    What does occur to me is how I would spend that money. I daydream about it. Often.
    A few minutes ago while I was on break, I drifted off into that place where life is idyllic, I’m a size 10 and I am the Powerball winner.

  • I didn't even know I had a bucket list

    Let’s face it. I’m not a spring chicken.
    I have three adult children, two of whom have solid careers while the other is finishing his senior year of college.
    I don’t have grandchildren, but I’m definitely old enough to have a passel. I could even have a couple who could be as old as 12. But remember, I don’t.
    I’m not fit and thin and my eyebrows spotted gray two years before I found my first one in my head this past January.
    Indeed, I am old.