Do you remember George Plimpton?
One morning recently, as I was lingering over my breakfast coffee in front of the TV, I saw a program (maybe "The Today Show") that listed the top movies by attendance for a certain period.
We tend to put people in boxes these days, usually appending the description "disorder" to our description itself of them.
There is a phenomenon in physics called entanglement.
I have said that I was not going to get involved in the issue of the Mississippi flag, but like lemmings rushing to the sea where they drown themselves, I find myself blurting out a few thoughts, although I have no wish to offend anybody.
Do you remember the old "society columns" in which "Little Miss Precious Plutocrat motored to Birmingham yesterday with her mother, Mrs. Pomposity Plutocrat, for a day of shopping and luncheon with her aunt and cousin, Mrs. Genuine Gotrocks and little Miss Hotcha Gotrocks."
Yesterday was July 4, when we as a nation commemorate the act of declaring our independence from what we perceived as oppressive government from Britain under George III.
Wrapping myself in the thick hotel bathrobe and clutching my cup of hot coffee, I ventured out onto the balcony in the chilly Colorado air.
The couple stood serenely hand-in-hand on the brow of the mountain, the warm, early summer sun lighting their faces with a golden glow.
The Bible says there is a time for everything.
Occasionally the Scientific American magazine prints articles describing inventions that will probably change our future, and rarely I can understand at least a part of them.
Yesterday St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Albany, Georgia, conducted another K9s for Warriors benefit run.
By now most of the spring breaks are over, and students are looking forward to the end of the school year.
I do not know about you, but I have noticed a shift in my mail.
Two of my grandchildren will get married this spring and summer, a grandson and a granddaughter, cousins.
Circumstances occasionally take a strange turn when you write this kind of column.
My friend, Peggy Cantelou, says she has been playing bridge since she was in junior high school, that the mothers of her set were determined that their daughters would be proficient in the game.
'Twas the time after Christmas and all through the house,
Everyone was exhausted including the mouse.
Probably no other time of the year lends itself to fantasies as Christmas.
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