Politically speaking, perhaps the biggest news story last week was the historic loss of U.S. House Majority Leader Eric Cantor in a primary election.
I have said it before, but it bears repeating: If I don't qualify for Heaven - a distinct possibility - my preferred alternates are (a) Athens, Georgia, on a crisp fall Saturday afternoon; (b) Athens, Georgia, on a warm spring day or (c) Athens, Georgia, on any day.
There are many things I love about the South. Southerners are fiercely patriotic. We're neighborly. We're storytellers without equal. We're unabashedly and unapologetically faithful. We're proudly hospitable. But here's what I love just a little bit better than all the rest: We believe mightily in courtesy and manners.
Each year, an estimated 5 million older persons are abused, neglected and exploited.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. It seems to me that there once was a time - now, this was decades ago, mind you - when, if a father did anything out of the ordinary, he was commended and praised for going above and beyond.
MOULTRIE - I seldom watch fishing shows on television. For one thing, if you see someone catch one fish, then you've pretty much seen him catch them all. It's not like he's going to accidentally pull up a sunken treasure chest or a mermaid. Give or take a few ounces, it's going to be the same fish.
Voter turnout was abysmal during the May primaries despite important races for governor and both the Congressional First District and one of Georgia's two seats in the Senate. Statewide, less than 20 percent of registered voters participated. In Bryan County, that number was even lower – only 15.4 percent of the county's 18,400 registered voters bothered to exercise their right to help elect their leaders.
Before the start of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games, Billy Payne, the organization's CEO, reminded everyone that while much of the attention during the Games would be focused on the high-profile athletes, not to forget that all 10,000 athletes from the 107 countries represented were and would forever be Olympians - a title very few people in the world would ever attain.
It was only last year - about six months ago, in fact - that we faced sequestration and the budget crisis that affected the federal government. Our civilian workforce on Fort Stewart actually returned to work Oct. 7, 2013, even with the shutdown still at a stalemate in Washington, D.C.
You are an avid (insert sport here). You have invested countless hours into it, and you plan to take it to another level. You believe your sport is evolving, and you participate in local events where you can test your ability.
The state of Georgia will be using new standardized tests in its public schools next year, and some students might not make the grade -- literally.
Before the start of the 1996 Centennial Olympic Games, Billy Payne, the organization's CEO, reminded everyone that while much of the attention during the Games would be focused on the high-profile athletes, not to forget that all 10,000 athletes from the 107 countries represented were and forever would be Olympians - a title few people in the world would ever attain.
In the land of my birth, the British often ask visitors if they "fancy a cuppa."
MOULTRIE - I'm for real. I can prove it. I finally have a genuine birth certificate.
In the tiny country church where I spent most of the first 22 years of my life - where I found the Lord at the age of 11; where, without fail, I had the lead role in every Christmas pageant; and where my daddy laid down the law in more ways than one - we sang hymns from a brown songbook and a green one that were filled with the haunting melodies that have penetrated the Appalachians for many decades.
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.
History is fickle with heroic humans, even when they loom over their generation in service to humanity. Even presidents suffer the fickle hand of history, especially when events in their administrations overshadow them. It happened to Herbert Hoover.
Can it be? Is it September already? One of my favorite tunes, "September Song," was written by Kurt Weill and Maxwell Anderson for a Broadway musical in 1938 called "Knickerbocker Holiday." The lyrics could apply today to the current political season in Georgia: "For it's a long, long time from May to December, but the days grow short when you reach September."
By now, most of you have heard about the Ferguson, Missouri, riots, where a young unarmed male was shot by a police officer and died on the spot.
When business called my husband, Tink, back to Los Angeles, he decided to take the opportunity to have his annual check-up. When it ended, he called home.
It was Aug. 30, 1928, when mom was born in Kanawha County, West Virginia, just a year prior to the start of the great depression. Finney Holler is the more exact location of her birth, although it is a little hard to determine exactly where Finney Holler is or was. Not too long after she was born her family moved down the road to Big Chimney; which does happen to be on the map.
Last week, seemingly all the national news agencies reported on the American Academy of Pediatrics' new recommendation that middle and high schools start no earlier than 8:30 a.m. to help ensure older children get more sleep.
Have you noticed how "nostalgia" sells? This hit me like an antique butter churn the other day as I was watching television, and so many of the commercials have incorporated "old rock" music into their marketing spiels. And we can say, "Yes I remember that one!" We might even say, "Hey, that was our song!"