Columns

Man, am I ever glad the election is over. I am one who always tries to answer the phone but it got to where my phone was ringing off the hook from daylight to dark the last two weeks of the race. Most of the calls were from some overcompensated politician or someone that wanted to become one and they each had a plan for creating jobs. This job creation business was fine coming from an outsider, but each incumbent that said “I have a plan to create jobs”, I would shout into the phone and ask what they were waiting on since they were already in office! Create some, darn it! [Full Story »] 

I take voting very seriously and try to prepare myself for that daunting task every time an election comes round. In this national election coming up in November, I want to be informed and cast my vote for the candidates most likely to lead this country out of the predicament we’re currently in. Whether I’m voting for the president or a congressman, I want an effective, principled man. I use that word man loosely, of course, because in the English language, man still can refer to both sexes. Certainly I’ll vote for a woman if I determine her to be the best man for the job. I’ve encountered a bit of a problem determining how exactly to prepare to vote in this year’s election though. [Full Story »] 

Time just flies by nowadays. It seemed that it was only yesterday that we brought my baby boy home from the hospital but here we were helping him move into his dorm room at Valdosta State University. While the unloading was getting underway in earnest, my wife handed me a list and told me to go to the mall and get supplies. I asked where the mall was because I was lost as a goose. She gave me directions and I lit out, glad to get away from the bedlam of hundreds of students and parents milling around doing the same thing we were. [Full Story »] 

B. J. and I live on St. Simons Island, Ga. Some of the people on St. Simons put a lot of stock in the fact that they are members of private clubs. Well, although it is not on St. Simons Island and we don’t go around tooting our horn about it, we own our own private club. [Full Story »] 

Just to show how easy one can get into trouble, I have decided to tell of an experience I had with pornography. I know, I know, the Good Book says a Wise man will conceal a matter but a fool tells all. Well, here goes. [Full Story »] 

I’ll be the first to admit that back in 1966 when I enrolled in the University of Georgia, I was a just a teeny bit naive. I expected to breeze through college as I had through high school, earn my degree, and go forth and teach classes of eager-to-learn students. I student-taught in Augusta at Richmond Academy under a supervising teacher who inspired terror in her students—and me, too, actually. Not once during my tenure in her classroom did I so much as ask a student to be quiet. Just her presence in the room kept them under control. I learned nothing about discipline. UGA didn’t teach me that either. When a small high school just over the South Carolina line called me and asked me to finish out the year for its French teacher, I was eager but innocent. That 1st semester of teaching taught me far more than all my education classes and student teaching put together. [Full Story »] 

When I was growing up, we lived in the country about fifteen miles from the Toombs County Seat of Lyons, Ga. On Saturday we went to town to purchase items that weren’t produced on our farm. Going to town on Saturday was a big day for me. Daddy always gave me a dollar. In those days a dollar was big money. With a dollar, I could go to the movies, see a double feature, a comedy and the news, and buy a bag of popcorn and a coke. There would be enough left out of the dollar to get a milk shake and two comic books. Make a dollar do that now. [Full Story »] 

Once upon a time, back in the ‘good old days’, my Mother was washing clothes, which back then was an outdoor affair. The washpot had to be kept boiling for hot water and the really dirty spots on our everyday clothes had to be battled out on a washboard. My Momma was blessed in that she had a washing machine that was motorized. I used to watch that old blade swishing back and forth until I was hypnotized. Of course, one yell from Momma was enough to break any spell no matter what or who had cast it. [Full Story »] 

We have wild grapevines growing all over our property. A fruit-bearing one grows high in the oak tree by the hammock. One’s trying to climb the sycamore, but I keep discouraging it by cutting it back. Just the other day we found behind the azaleas another one loaded with fruit. Our domestic vines out front that Larry’s dad planted long ago are full this year, too, but the grapes are not quite ripe. I hope to make jelly with some of them in late summer. When I was a child, it seemed that everyone had huge grapevines. Our next door neighbor, Aunt Jincey, my father’s aunt, had a huge vine and welcomed us to pick whenever we wanted to. During the dog days of summer, I especially anticipated visits to Grandma Nichols’ house and grapevine, too. Her grapes were especially succulent and we always came away with big bags full. [Full Story »] 

It is a good thing our children are not taught in school like we were when I was a boy. If they were they might actually achieve an education and that is the last thing the political elite seem to want.
Back then, at Hebron Elementary Institute of Higher Learning, we knew better than to sass the teacher because if we did, Mr. Peavy or Mr. Kirkland would make your bottom shine like a new dime. And when we got home, a trip to the dreaded mulberry tree was awaiting. [Full Story »]