.....Advertisement.....
.....Advertisement.....

Columns

  • Let it be told

    My first best friend was a dog named Ikey, named by a great aunt who admired Gen. Dwight David Eisenhower.

    Ikey was a brindle terrier who loved chasing squirrels, but mostly he loved me. He listened when I was sad, and he sat quietly beside me when I needed someone close.

    We didn’t have a fence, and he roamed the neighborhood. I couldn’t understand when he didn’t come home one day; my parents hid the truth from me. The truth: a neighbor had poisoned him.

  • Let it be told

    By Mignon Craig

    Guest Columnist

     

    “To serve—not to be served” is the motto of our 48-year-old AARP Chapter #912.

    I’m a second generation chapter member. My parents were members and officers in the 1990s, and I joined in 2002.

    Two of our current members, Lena and Howard Brown, are mother and son. Another member is a distant cousin to one of the chapter founders in 1971, Marie Stanley. The other founders were Anetta Roosa, William Ryerson and James Sabo.

  • And I just slidddd

    Despite being a mountain girl with country roots, I am not much of a bluegrass or country music fan. Especially today's country music.

    I know names because I do watch TV and read, but to tell you one song that Blake Shelton or Luke Bryan sings – it can't be done.

    But when I learned more than six months ago that Garth Brooks was coming to Gainesville, I knew I had to be there. I've been a Garth fan since "If Tomorrow Never Comes" way back in 1989.

  • More than a building

    By Kaye Mikell

    WHS Class of 1966

    Though I missed the walk-through WHS on April 6, I would like to share these memories.

    To me, WHS was not only a building, but it was also like a house full of family, friends, fun, good times, awful times, wins, losses, As and Fs. Five days a week, seven hours a day for 12 years, and additional hours after school for practices, games, school events. That’s a lot of time to spend with teachers and classmates in one place.

  • Mama, thy name is Sloth

    I have the best in-laws.

    Jane, Tom's sister, is a year older than me and perhaps because we're so close in age we connected immediately. While we don't share history, we share the 70s and that in itself is bonding.

    About 18 months ago, Jane and her husband, Ken, moved to Wilbur by the Sea, an unincorporated hamlet south of Daytona.

    Except for a small marina/restaurant, there is nothing commercial in Wilbur. It's mostly retirees or people getting ready to retire.

  • Random thoughts for a random Tuesday

    Many of you have sent me notes or dropped in to tell me how much you enjoy reading my personal column. Many of you have asked why I don't do it more often – like weekly.

    Easy answer. I'm either A) worn out from everything that's going on that week or B) lacking inspiration.

    I'm afraid B wins out more often than not.

    I admire people who can write a weekly column, 52 weeks of the year, or the columnist who shares three times a week or more. I wish I could. I can't. I need inspiration.

  • Connections are all around

    I have so many stories from Florida’s first Alzheimer’s Music Fest and I’ll share a couple of them with you.

  • I am a woman of faith

    Truth be told, this column should appear on the Faith page of this newspaper because it's about my faith and how it played out last week.

    If that offends you, stop reading now and go on to something else.

    I wasn't reared in a particularly religious home. My parents were spiritual and had their set of beliefs about God and salvation but organized religion wasn't something that was stressed.

  • The potential is there

    Sometimes the very thing you're looking for

    Is the one thing you can't see,

    Vanessa Williams – The Best for Last

    Three weeks ago, on the one day it wasn't freezing, I spent hours driving around the city of Williston photographing it for last week's Welcome to Williston Community Guide.

  • Finding myself in what I left behind

    You can't miss what you never had, goes the old idiom.

    But how long does it take you to miss that which you did have?

    Is it a day? A week? A month? A year? Years?

    Years! I know because over the last two weeks I've become reacquainted with items that were once cherished, but were long since forgotten.

    It happened like this.

    In 2002, my then-husband and I separated and I moved into an apartment that was barely big enough for me, let alone the annals of my life.