This year my mother (still going strong at age 88) marks 50 years as an antique collector. Since I grew up in a world of hand-stitched quilts, milk churns, Depression glass and yellowing Montgomery Ward catalogues, I have learned to appreciate the classics.
When I was a 6-year-old lad lusting over the “ant farm” advertisements in 12-cent comic books, I had no idea how ahead-of-their-time those ads were.
All day I faced the barren wastes without the taste of water… – The Sons of the Pioneers
As my family prepares to celebrate Easter 2015, I feel overwhelmed by the changes the holiday has undergone in both religious and secular terms. Perhaps it’s the haze of passing years that prejudices me, but it seems that the holiday has declined greatly in innocence and reverence since the days I was hugging my stuffed bunny and fighting my cousins for festive eggs in Granny Tyree’s front yard.
One of my late father’s favorite trick questions was, “What does a cat learn if it jumps on a hot stove burner?”
If you watched this year’s Academy Awards, you probably know that March 2 marks the 50th anniversary of the U.S. debut of the beloved film “The Sound Of Music.”
Are you an unsung hero? Do those you encounter not appreciate the “real” you? Must you always having the last word? Then you might be interested in the new trend spotted by USA Today: self-penned obituaries, also known as “selfie obits” or “autobituaries.”
At last, the story can be told! February 11 marks the 15th anniversary of my father’s fatal heart attack. Time has erased much of the sting, but every day I find myself blurting out one Dad phrase or another (such as “There’s no such thing as a simple job” or “Hubba hubba, man — let’s hubba hubba”). As Paul Overstreet sang, “I’m beginning to see my father in me.”
The internet is really wasted on me and wife Melissa around Valentine’s Day. If you do a news search for “Valentine’s Day,” there are tips, hints, reminders, suggestions, pointers and guilt trips aplenty — but none that really mesh with our lifestyle.
According to an essay published by New America Foundation (and reprinted on “Time” magazine’s website), protest songs are enjoying a resurgence, after falling below society’s radar for a few years.
On second thought, maybe I should discourage my son from pursuing a career in engineering.
Just a reminder: Jan. 8 marks the anniversary of the Battle of New Orleans, the last major encounter of The War of 1812.
I’m writing one of my infrequent serious columns, because I realize there is more to Christmas than non-stop holly jolly mirth.
