All around are stones. The buildings are mason-crafted from sandstone. Many of the street walks are cobbled in smooth rock. And the land of Edinburgh is itself a mass of stone, a fortress of a city spied upon by the castle at the heights. This is Scotland's capital, and it's been my temporary home for a week after an overnight sleeper train from London. E dinburgh is Scotland, and Scotland has been a mystery all my life, until now. It's not that I have decoded all of Scotland's mysteries; it's just that the land and ...
I really liked the music playing in the restaurant. The songs were classics from the '70s and '80s, including a good number of New Wave tunes - Blondie being the best example. I asked my server about the station, and she said, it was the owner's favorite, and later, told me that if they tried to change it, (the owner) would fire us.
A true disciple of Christ has more to do than just be a faithful follower.
Many of you of a certain age will remember Kessler's Department store in downtown Atlanta. I never shopped there, but I loved the Easter ads that would come on television, interrupting my mindless enjoyment of Gilligan's Island, Leave it To Beaver, and all the other shows that Ted Turner gave us before he became a famous Montana rancher. A girl's voice - pleasant and youthful - would tell us how nice we'd look in our new Easter clothing, if we'd just venture down to Kessler's and make a purchase. The Kessler's ad was an Easter ...
Years ago, I read Road and Track magazine every month, drooling on the pages as I admired creations by Lotus, BMW, Ferrari, Mercedes and most every foreign manufacturer except for a few who made cars out of egg crates and powered them with mice on treadmills. I was a self-professed car nut, and I could own any auto I wanted, in my mind. And the mind - unlike the real world - was a great place to own some of these cars: no maintenance schedules, no repair bills, no oil leaks, no insurance. One of the best parts of Road and Track ...
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Just three days after Christmas, I ventured into a store and was greeted by a massive display of pulmonary confectionery: Valentine's Day candy in heart-shaped boxes, as it's known on the streets. I marvel at the power of capitalism and its never-ending push for the next source of revenue, but seeing Valentine's candy while the Christmas tree is still glowing is just too much!
It's a new year, but seeing 2014 roll around on the dial scared the bejeebers out of me! After all, 2014 is 30 years after Orwell's nightmarish 1984, and it's a crazy era even he couldn't have conjured up! Who needs that kind of new year? Not me! In fact, I want to forget 2014 and welcome back some old years instead.
David McCoy is taking a break. This column originally ran Feb. 12, 2010.
Editor's note: Columnist David McCoy is taking a break. This column was originally published in July, 2011.
It's been almost five years since I started Pecan Pie for the Mind, and I've finally succumbed to the classic "writing about writing" device that so many use to rattle off a quick column.
It's really hard to hear people sometimes, isn't it?
My recent "do-it-yourself" oil change debacle brought me to a painful crossroads: Do I keep fiddling with this myself, or do I let a professional help me?
The U.S. government has stopped working, and that really ticks me off.
I've met some nice people in my 53 years: people who are specialists at making others feel good about life and good about themselves. We've all come across these folks, and I'd like to share some of their actions that have impressed me.
We find powerful scents all around us, don't we? Go to the mall, and you can almost see the pink clouds rising from the perfume counter. Visit the grocery store, and you'll be bombarded with scented detergents and shampoos and soaps. Sit in any meeting, and you'll whiff dozens of perfumes and aftershaves, if you're lucky. Toilet water, colognes, deodorants, detergents - it's a treasure trove for the nose, everywhere we go.
Back in the mid-seventies, my Uncle Jack took me "window shopping" at a huge car auction out in the Georgia countryside.
Editor's Note: This column by David McCoy was first published Sept. 17, 2010.
Could you explain our present day to one of your ancestors?
"Why did the armadillo cross the road?" is a trick question, if I judge armadillo road crossing skills by what I've seen on the interstate this summer.
I'm not trying to move in on Heloise's turf, offering snappy "household hints" to my readers, but we're chasing dust bunnies and candy wrappers with our vacuum cleaner, and I wanted to share a few of my own cleaning tricks.