I have been fighting a desperate battle the past three weeks. Unfortunately, I am losing — badly. Not to worry. This particular battle is not health-related. God and my doctors seem to have my health problems under control right now. No, I am fighting the battle of the autumn leaves, and I am losing ground every day.
Common Core Curriculum. It is becoming the most politicized educational issue since the Blue Back Speller.
We cannot do justice to our veterans simply by setting aside one day a year upon which to honor them, but it is at least a start.
I have gotten used to change. People tell me that change is good. Some is. Some isn’t. I’m not a big fan of most change.
There used to be a publication called “Brown’s Guide to Georgia.” It was as much a travelogue as anything else and if a restaurant was lucky enough to get a favorable review in “Brown’s Guide,” they were fixin’ to be busy. It was up to them to maintain that business.
I went to a funeral the other day of a good friend who was alarmingly close to my own age. It was a simple dignified service at a funeral home in his hometown.
I walked outside to get the papers Tuesday and there was an unmistakable nip in the air.
The self-serving nincompoops we elected to Congress may have shut down the government of the United States, but the Conch Republic is open for business.
It was one for the ages and can’t be ignored. Those of you who don’t like it when I “write about ball” are excused until Friday, if you so choose.
Huckaby says, “I have seen the United States. Now, I am so thankful to be able to see what the rest of the world has to offer.”
This week I found myself with a bit of spare time on my hands and thought I might earn a few brownie points by attacking the accumulated clutter of the past three decades. After all, the holiday season is just around the corner. Imagine Lisa’s delight when she trudges upstairs to get the Christmas wreaths this year and finds that order has replaced chaos. That’s what I told myself, but alas, it was not to be. This time it was quilts.
Despite all the planning and parties and preparations — and check writing — it has just hit me this week that the day is upon us. You really are getting married.
For almost 28 years now I have prayed that Jamie Leigh Huckaby would grow up to be intelligent, well-rounded and happy. Those prayers have been answered many times over.
On a recent trip to my favorite grocery store, I decided to play a little game with myself. I pretended that it was 1963 instead of 2013.
I was feeling a bit melancholy as I sat on the front porch Friday morning, reading the paper and enjoying my morning coffee.
I took a drive down memory lane last week and about half way through my trip decided to turn into and old country store and rest a spell.
When my former colleagues head back to the classroom this Friday, I will not be among them
I found myself holding in my 61-year-old hands a 64-year-old program from a three act comedy performed on March 4 and 5, 1949, in the Porter Memorial Gymnasium — by the Senior Class of Porterdale High School.
Salem Camp Meeting and homemade ice cream go hand in hand.
Thank you Milton for caring enough to voice your opinion.
T.J. Stripling was one of the most highly recruited football players in the state of Georgia -- and that means in the world.
The George Zimmerman trial has been like a train wreck to me this week.
We passed ObamaCare and now we are finding out what is in it.
News of the death of 19 Arizona firefighters deserves a moment of respect from all of us.
Rising water may call for drastic measures.
If I could be anywhere in the world today I would like to be 700 miles to the north, in Gettysburg, Pa.
Tolerance. It's an overused word these days.
Remember the old joke, "Do they have a Fourth of July in England?"
Can you imagine what television would look like if we banned all of the people who had used that word?
One of the summer constants in my life is camp meeting.
I was doing really well at my new career of trip planner and tour guide. I really was.
My buddies and I all agreed that the very best TV dad of all time was Andy Griffith.
What this country needs is not a good 5-cent cigar, but a return to the days of the telephone booth.
So the IRS is in hot water for undue diligence in evaluating conservative Americans and the taxes they owe.
As I sipped my coffee Friday morning and pored over the local paper a school news item caught my attention.
The "maiden voyage," so to speak, of my latest venture, Huck's Tours, is in the books and I am compelled to consider it a major success.
Is it just me or are churches having fewer revivals these days?
I suppose I knew this day would come sometime, but not this soon.
A baseball game and baseball memories take the sting out of a quarterly visit to M.D. Anderson.
Are we the people still willing to take up the torch for those who have given their last full measure on behalf of liberty and freedom?
As a retired Southern gentleman, who was educated a large university, I recently noted that my sartorial splendor has fallen short.
Words cannot express the horror that went through my mind as images of the deadly tornado that swept through Oklahoma began to be broadcast Monday afternoon.
Sometimes when I speak I am asked to field questions from the audience.
Now that I am a retired educator I guess I have to decide what to tell people when they ask me what I do for a living.
All good things must come to an end. I haven't really gotten tired of teaching. I just don't have the energy to do it all day any longer.
If you still have your mother this Mother's Day, cherish her. If you do not, cherish her memory.
Words. We all have the same ones at our disposal but many of us seem determined to use the same ones over and over.
If they had a yearbook for towns Hazel would have been best-dressed in Covington's for the past 88 years running.
The lunchroom was one of the best things about having the privilege of being educated in Porterdale.
Last week I stumbled across a place I had never been -- and it is a place so filled with the types of treasures that are near and dear to my heart that I will have to keep going back.