Tuesday, I made the drive to Parchman to report on the execution of Willie Jerome Manning, who was convicted in 1994 of the 1992 murder of a pair of Mississippi State students in Starkville.
The primaries for the municipal elections will be held Tuesday, followed by the general election June 4.
Late this morning, people of a faith gathered on the lawn of the Lowndes County Courthouse to observe the National Day of Prayer.
The Golden Triangle Regional Development Link lists 10 staff members on its website.
At the top of that hierarchy is CEO Joe Max Higgins, who has been the driving force of the economic development engine since his arrival in 2003.
By my estimation, it took the Columbus-Lowndes Convention and Visitors Bureau Board of Trustees almost six months to say no to Leroy Brooks.
The South has its troubles, Lord knows. But it also has its charms, as a Saturday trip around the Golden Triangle confirmed.
Columbus got its name during a town meeting in 1819. According to local historian Rufus Ward, there wasn't much fanfare associated with naming the young town located on the banks of the Tombigbee River. Silas McBee, one of the town's founders and leading citizens, suggested the name Columbus. And that was about it.
I used to take a measure of pride in saying that Tupelo was my hometown.
Now? I am not so sure, especially since Tupelo has become the Drive-By Elephant Shooting Capitol of the South.
During Wednesday's Table Talk program at the Columbus-Lowndes Public Library, four well-known local officials led a discussion on the subject, "My Favorite Childhood Book is...."
Lowndes County supervisors Harry Sanders and Leroy Brooks, along with Columbus Mayor Robert Smith and Chancery Clerk Lisa Younger Neese, spoke briefly about their favorite books, but it was the discussion that followed that proved most interesting.
Tonight, the Columbus City Council will consider a proposal to amend its hiring policies as they apply to people with felony convictions.
This comes in the wake of enforcement guidelines issued recently by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) that warned employers that making employment decisions based solely on a candidate's criminal history could be considered discrimination.
What does it take to coerce Sid Caradine to tell you about his Columbus roots?
This week, the Columbus Cultural Heritage Foundation celebrates its 73rd Pilgrimage with its tours of homes, churches and Friendship Cemetery. Sid Caradine, or "Captain Sid" as he is more commonly known, will be in his glory.
In a previous column, I referred to the Mississippi Legislature as a "festering pile of stupid." Upon reflection, this was not an accurate portrayal.
As the 2013 legislative session draws toward a merciful end, I am reminded daily that there is a more complete description of our state leaders: "A devious, festering pile of stupid."
The Columbus-Lowndes Convention and Visitors Bureau Board of Directors needed just 10 minutes to discuss and vote down a proposal to fund this year's Juneteenth Festival as a quality of life event in a special meeting Monday afternoon.
Ten years before he would take over as head of the dairy science department at Mississippi State University, and 30 years before the dairy science building would bear his name, professor Fredrick Herman Herzer had an idea:
Maybe we should make some cheese.
About 50 people crowded into the Grill Room at Lion Hills Golf Club Thursday for the latest episode of the Columbus Exchange Club Candidates Forum, which those in attendance will recall as "The 57 minutes of my life I really, really wish I had back."
The Great Festering Pile of Stupid, sometimes referred to as the Mississippi Legislature, will soon end its 2013 session.
Wednesday is the first day of spring, that time of year when most of us do with joy what we will be complaining about having to do come summer.
The art of writing involves showing rather than telling. The novice will write about a person being tall or beautiful or angry. The great writer will create a image of those qualities in the reader's mind. Readers don't want to be told; they want to see.
My last job before returning to Mississippi was a gig as a graveyard-shift janitor at a 55-plus living facility in Mesa, Ariz., called Venture Out.
It was the sort of job you would expect a convicted felon who had gone from one minimum-wage job to another since being released from prison would have.
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