For years, I blamed it on those royal-blue suede high-heel pumps. The ones with the ridiculously tall, spiked heel and absurdly pointed toe. I was 22 when I bought them, 36 when I donated them to the Salvation Army.
I don't believe in illness. OK, perhaps I should rephrase that - I don't believe in a minor illness' ability to keep me down. Unless I'm dragging a limb, hospitalized or totally unable to keep food down at all, I refuse to disrupt my ultra-busy daily routine to do silly things like "rest" or "recuperate."
Editor, The annual Spring Book and Yard Sale sponsored by the Friends of the Richmond Hill Library on Saturday, April 5, was a resounding success. Although FOL offers books for sale every day in the library, the spring and fall sales are special events that raise the majority of the funds the group contributes to meet the library's needs.
Some of my favorite memories involve time being quiet.
Editor, I saw small-town family values and teamwork by rec coach Tyler Gunderson and the Richmond Hill Wildcats basketball team that made them come to life in Richmond Hill. This team won the league for the season.
April is Child Abuse Prevention Month in Georgia, as proclaimed by Gov. Nathan Deal. Child abuse is a subject I don't like to think about, let alone write about, and you probably would just as soon not read about. But it is there, and we need to acknowledge it and demand some solutions.
In the Georgia Legislature, even a relatively simple bill can turn into one of the most important pieces of legislation that is considered.
The swarm of gnat nation has arrived
They all come with some kind of a price and all with a certain amount of disappointment, but still, Rodney keeps trying.
I have something I haven't had since I was in my early 20s. In fact, one of my favorite pictures taken in 1980 with my sister exposes it very well.
Call me an old-timer, but moms and dads just did things differently when I was a child. The overall approach to parenting seems to have changed so much. My parents fostered independence in my siblings and me. They wanted us to learn early on that we needed to be able to speak and do things for ourselves, and the sooner we understood that, the better off we'd be.
In 1965, Wilbur Mills, the chairman of the powerful Ways and Means Committee, brought legislation establishing Medicare and Medicaid to the floor of the U.S. House.
March was International Women's Month, and while we are moving into April, it is still worth mentioning that women have been trailblazers in their communities, right alongside their men.
Editor, I cannot be the only one who is tired of the status quo in Washington, D.C. Primary election time is coming up and we have a tough decision to make. We can either elect somebody who is a career politician like Buddy Carter, or vote for Dr. Bob Johnson, an Army veteran who has never run for public office.
Even by my impossibly high standards, this has been a good week. It began with a whack upside the head from a reader in South Georgia after I opined that those who want to change the way we teach our children in public schools ought to have their kids in public schools. I was referring to the efforts led by Sen. William Ligon, R-Brunswick, to overturn the Common Core curriculum in the recent legislative session.
I happen to love the song "Happy" from the movie soundtrack, "Despicable Me 2."
Most mornings, I spend about five minutes pulling my freshly washed hair into a ponytail. It's easy, it's efficient, and, I like to tell myself, it's even chic. When I know I'll be meeting important people or attending special events, however (like, say, the United Way annual campaign kick-off party or a chamber of commerce breakfast), I break out the products and utensils and spend an extra 20 minutes or so coaxing my locks into what I hope is a more professional-looking style.
I've always been one of those persons who won't hire someone to do something for me if I can do it myself, such as painting my house, building a deck, building a utility barn, caring for my own lawn, installing new flooring, etc. It was just the way I was raised. And it stuck.
Editor, This is an open letter to Attorney General Eric Holder.
Editor, It seems like we just cut the ribbon to our new location at 154 Thunderbird Drive. Our brand new 10,000 square foot facility seemed so BIG next to our little white building on 10055 Ford Ave. Site 3B, where the YMCA had resided in for the previous 10 years. We moved with excitement, added more equipment, larger classes, and exciting new family programs.
I'm not sure how many wilderness survival shows there are on television right now, but it appears there is some kind of obsession going on with this type of programming. And they are running the gamut from being naked in the wild to being fat in the wild. That's right, there's a show now titled "Fat Guys in The Woods." Fortunately, they keep their britches on.
• President Ronald Reagan, Jan. 30, 1984: "Exports create and sustain jobs for millions of American workers and contribute to the growth and strength of the United States economy. The Export-Import Bank contributes in a significant way to our nation's export sales."
Win at life! Isn't that what we all want to do? That is the headline gracing one of the magazines sitting on our coffee table. I guess the real question is, "what defines winning at life?" After all, life has a pretty broad playing field. Maybe what best defines winning in life is society's dire need to be in control. Everyone values their independence and sense of control, right?
Editor, Recently, I've spotted some news headlines - around the region, state and country - that I never thought I'd see. It really makes me wonder, "Whatever were they thinking?"
Editor, The following is an open letter on sequestration to Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, D-Nevada, from retired U.S. Army Gen. Gordon R. Sullivan, head of the Association of the United States Army:
Remember the story of "The Little Engine That Could"? That could well describe the city of Dalton, a town of some 34,000 nestled in the corner of northwest Georgia, not far from the Tennessee line.
Lately, I've been thinking about the treasure trove that can be found in life's challenging times - the wisdom, the victories, the emotional muscle built and, of course, the stories. As those who know me well often say with a smile, "It's always about the story with her."
I realize, perhaps better than anyone, that it's not polite to ask others about their reproductive plans. I've long ranted about how much it annoyed me when friends, family members and even perfect strangers would inquire about a possible plunge into parenthood. Even now, as most of my readers know, I get aggravated when people ask whether my 2-year-old daughter, Reese, will ever be a sister.