The Super Bowl party has become as popular as the Fourth of July picnic. Go in any supermarket and you'll see a football-themed display of everything from chips and salsa to soft drinks. There is nothing quite like the biggest sporting and television event of the year.
On the first day of spring, before the snow returned, I had visions of grandeur. As I have in years past, I dreamed of becoming physically fit.
I have some friends in the Augusta area who are devotees of The Masters golf tournament. They are pretty excited that a player by the name of Eldrick is going to play in their upcoming tourney. Eldrick is quite a player. I call him Eldrick because that's what they called him the first time they introduced him at The Masters. I was standing there when they said it.
When it comes to snow, I have passed the point that I want to go out and play.
I was in fifth grade when the announcement was made that a meeting of the 4-H club was being held that day. Not exactly sure what the 4-H club was, I went.
We've got a gang problem in my neighborhood.
I have visited 157 of the 159 counties in Georgia. They all have a courthouse. Some are big and stately, others are rather plain.
I am a fan of the eternal optimist. The person who sees the glass half full, rather than half empty.
I was in Central Florida recently and someone suggested I take a couple of minutes and drive through the town of Celebration, Fla.
In some ways, we were just alike. In others, we were direct opposites. But you didn't need a DNA test to know that we were cut from the same cloth. Mine was a bit wider and his was a tad longer.
There was a time in Georgia when two people could walk into what was then called the Ordinary's office and swear that somebody was crazy. An order would be issued and the sheriff would haul them off to Milledgeville. Some of them would stay locked up for the rest of their lives.
I've lived several places around this state. Some of them were named for Revolutionary War heroes, former presidents or places in Europe. I spent most of my growing up years in Social Circle, a town named for group of fellows who gathered around a well to drink water (that's the puritanical version; others think it may have been firewater).
Dear Santa, Well, it's that time again and I thought I would write you. Postage has gone up and I just thought I'd save a little bit by publishing it in the paper. I'm sure glad you still get The Covington News at the North Pole. I've been pretty good this year. Not my best, but certainly not my worst. I eat too much, don't get ...
It was 40 years ago, about this time of year that I repented of my sins and was baptized. At 9, my list of sins paled in comparison to some of the whoppers I committed over the ensuing years. I figured if I sinned once a day over that time, that is 14,600. There were some days I was in double digits. But I am grateful that there is forgiveness and that's all forgotten.
There's been a lot written about blessing counting.