As we all know, online maps can be deceiving.
There are things - plenty of things - I just don't get.
I heard the news of the Boston Marathon bombings just a few minutes after I had undergone a biopsy. An annual OB exam had revealed an enlarged uterus.
My husband gave me an e-reader more than 15 months ago. I was surprised. I had not asked for one, but he thought I would enjoy it.
When the terrorist attacks occurred in Boston during the running of the Boston Marathon, memories came flooding back of our own dark days in Atlanta.
Despite strong competition from several schools, Oak Hill Elementary again topped the charts in Newton 4-H this year.
Local philathropist, gentleman and sage Pierce Cline was well known for the life lessons he learned himself and taught to others through wanderings along the Appalachian Trail.
Suppose you buy a gallon of gas for $3. How much did it cost you? You say, "Williams, that's a silly question. It cost $3." That's where you're mistaken, because there's a difference between price and cost.
There's an interesting picture hanging in the bathroom of a particular shop here in town.
Mitt Romney's secretly recorded comment that 47 percent of Americans are "dependent on the government" and "believe they are victims" isn't the only reason he lost the presidential campaign.
Last month, I got caught in the massive hail storm while teaching in Stockbridge. I took a picture of the larger than a golf ball-sized hail that pummeled the houses and cars in the Monarch Village neighborhood.
Take a life, any life, even your own. Write down all the known facts and documentation of that life, much but not all of it taken from public record: birth, parents, hometown, siblings, education, college transcripts, career, titles, marriage, children, divorce, volunteer positions, achievements, military service, address, church membership, diaries, daybooks and perhaps old letters retained by the sender or recipient.
My sister Kathy texted the news of the Boston Marathon bombing not long after it happened.
It turns out that you can go home again. I recently established a chair in crisis communications leadership at the Grady College of Journalism and Mass Communications at my beloved University of Georgia. UGA President-elect Dr. Jere Morehead, along with Dink NeSmith, chairman of the Board of Regents came for the ceremony and both made my family and me feel warmly welcomed on campus.
I suppose it is never a normal spring. But it does seem like we have gotten more rain than usual this spring. Not that there is anything wrong with that as Seinfeld would say. I am sure we will be hearing dire predictions of drought soon enough, and all the rain we have had lately will be forgotten.
Last week has been a strange one. The undercurrent of tragedy following the Connecticut school shooting, combined with the condensed pressure of the holidays, has made it go by in a fog.
My husband and I made what I hope is the last effort to denude the yard of leaves right before Christmas. It was either the third or fourth sweep of the yard this year.
President Obama and congressional Democrats are still winning the messaging battle in the debate over the impending "fiscal cliff."
Congratulations! If you're reading this, it means you survived the Mayan calendar's alleged prediction of total world destruction. But, if the world has been destroyed, then you're not reading this, and I just wasted a perfectly good "congratulations" on a bunch of cosmic dust. Either way, let's move to today's topic: cloying customer service.
JoAnn Watson, Detroit city council member, said, "Our people in an overwhelming way supported the re-election of this president, and there ought to be a quid pro quo." In other words, President Obama should send the nearly bankrupted city of Detroit millions in taxpayer bailout money. But there's a painful lesson to be learned from decades of political hustling and counsel by intellectuals and urban experts.
The school shooting in Newtown, Conn., where 20 children and six staff members of Sandy Hook Elementary School were killed last week, is a tragic reminder of the sanctity of life. Of promising young lives cut short and the uniqueness and preciousness of every single person.
The holiday season is upon us already. I would like to wish the City of Covington a Merry Christmas, as well as a Happy New Year, and I hope that everyone enjoys this special time of year. I know that I myself am looking forward to this Christmas season.
It's the same each time. After yet another tragic loss of life at the hands of an armed madman, we mourn, ache, cry and seek someone or something to blame.
It is a fledgling tradition, but traditions start somewhere. It is becoming a ritual for us to settle in on successive nights and work our way through a library of Christmas movies. There's "White Christmas" with mellifluous Bing Crosby, antic Danny Kay and sumptuous but stiff Rosemary Clooney who transform a failing New England inn and the fortunes of its owner, a retired general under whom characters played by Crosby and Kay served in World War II.
Authoritarian governments - whether religious or secular - have long sought to curb or even to extinguish religious liberty. On the other hand, the limited American government established by our Constitution respects the institutions of our civil society - including, especially, religious institutions. The American Founding Fathers believed that strong religious congregations and vibrant faith communities were essential to ordered liberty. As a result, Americans have long enjoyed the fullest religious liberty in the world ...
My youngest granddaughter asked me for a pair of boots for Christmas. Wanting to clarify her request, I asked if she meant cowboy boots. She looked at me as only a child can look at an adult when the adult has not grasped what is obvious to the child, and she said firmly, "No, grandmamma, cowGIRL boots.
OK, so I talk to myself when I'm making my hour long commute. It's usually after something irritates me while listening to the morning news on the radio. Last week, however, I had a pretty constructive discussion with myself. Why do we keep turning to the same people to fix the problems we have within our government? At the federal, state and local levels we consistently turn to the "good ol' boys" to reform our ...
So long as I live in a world where more than 100 people can gather on a Sunday afternoon to sing Christmas carols accompanied by 48 tuba players, I have hope for humanity. That was my overriding feeling at Tuba Christmas last Sunday in Porterdale.
Having survived the Supreme Court and the November elections, President Obama's health care law now faces an even bigger hurdle: the reality of making it work.
Here's some ugly math I wish I hadn't calculated. It's 2012 and I'm 52 years old. If the Mayans and their silly calendars leave us alone, and I live to be 90, I'll have 38 years left. Thirty-eight years seems like a lot of life remaining... until you think about it. Thirty-eight years ago was 1974. Back in that strange year, I turned 14, learned to play the guitar, listened to ABBA and moped around ...