Imagine you are a 16-year-old girl, waking up in another person's house, unclothed and unable to find your underwear or earrings after a night of drinking. Unsure of what happened, you go home and go on, but in the days that follow, you see on social media photos of yourself drunk and unresponsive.
When I was growing up in Porterdale, we had Christmas programs with folks singing all the Christmas carols in the gym. There was a huge tree in the center of the floor. It was a beautiful site.
As in most small cities, our downtown has experienced a sharp turnover in businesses in recent years. Retail businesses in small towns have faced competition from shopping centers with convenient parking and a greater variety of merchandise.
Thirteen years ago, before 8,000 teachers in Louisiana's capitol city, I watched in amazement as East Harlem public school teacher Kay Toliver held all in awe with a two-hour demonstration of effective teaching strategies combined with her commitment to the human touch in teaching. Two years ago, in Williamsburg, Va., I observed this same 30-year classroom veteran as she stressed her long-held belief that "powerful teaching includes the human touch."
I'm amazed each Christmas at how the whole world comes to a halt of sorts. Virtually every educated, civilized person aware of the calendar and in possession of modern communication devices knows that on this day Christians around the world celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, Moslems, agnostics and atheists all know Jesus, whose followers claim him to be the Son of God, Savior, the propitiation for the sins of the world.
This time of year brings great joy as well as great stress. There is often too much to do, too much to eat, too much to drink, too little sleep and too much family. It's easy to get caught up in the holiday frenzy and forget the meaning and value behind the holidays, the holy days.
Now that you have finished shopping, wrapping, decorating, planning, cooking, packing, traveling, welcoming, there is one more thing.
"T'was the night before Christmas and all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Except that's not true this year at our house. On the night before Christmas, this house was alive With cats racing, wrestling and taking a dive. To the rafters they jumped, then slid down the stairs Knocked over the greenery, then hid in their lairs. Sonny was ...
For weeks, I awaited a call that never came from Gov.-elect Nathan Deal informing me that I would be a member of his transition team.
Christmas was simple when the children were young. Most years we'd celebrate at our home. Grandparents would come to us, and we'd open the gifts Christmas Eve night. Santa always came to our house first, (he has to start somewhere, after all). Santa timed his visits perfectly, arriving after the grandparents had taken our offspring out to look at the holiday lights. Donna and I would stay behind to clean ...
Fall's all but gone and winter's coming on and for Newton County it promises to be a hard one. There's not much letup in the drip, drip, drip of the Great Recession. And the political greed of local miscreants can only make it worse.
The executive director of the Flannery O'Connor-Andalusia Foundation visited the Floyd Street library last week. A guest of Newton County Friends of the Library, Craig Amason presented an interesting overview of ongoing preservation efforts at Andalusia, Connor's home just north of Milledgeville. More fascinating were his insightful comments regarding one of Georgia's truly amazing authors.
I believe in Christmas. I believe as a Christian that Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus, the Son of God. The Messiah. I believe you have the right to disagree with me, but I know what I believe in my heart. I believe no Christmas is official until someone sings "O Holy Night" (no crooning, please) on Christmas Eve. I will accept the "Hallelujah Chorus" from ...
I tried to check out the Geminid meteor shower before dawn on Tuesday.
It was the coldest night of the year. Even long johns and layers weren't enough to protect against the frigid temperatures, and when the wind blew, you couldn't help but pine for an electric blanket and the comforts of home. Failing that, there was always a place at the roaring bonfire where you could roast marshmallows for s'mores. The woods sparkled with thousands of lights and unique features: a line-up of hula hoops ...
December elicits wide ranges of emotion from me: Fury, melancholy, joy, greed, thanksgiving and heart-rending, soul-wrenching, unspeakable sorrow. An ineffable expression springing from gratitude deep within me. A groaning too deep for words.