"I have a thousand stories!" said David Shelton, when I asked him what he remembered about old Columbus. "I used to work for Sid Gardner and Kelly Myers for $4 a day. I wanted to be in the drug store business because of Mr. Sid. I'd sit on a stool at his drug store and just listen. So many people came in that I heard and learned a lot.
You already know that beauty exists across the species, although I confess I have never found anything attractive about a snake or a spider. But did you know that the desire to be beautiful also spans a number of God's creatures as well?
My sister called this week, a rare occurrence. She had received a package containing Mother's ashes. "They're in a plastic box," Victoria told me, "I remember seeing something like it at Pier 1, maybe 10 or so years ago." What a crude container for such a complicated woman. Mother would have hated it. Then she added, "The box has a sort of rattle."
About six years ago there were lots of kayaking outfitters within a few hours' drive, but nowadays it looks like most of those watering holes have dried up.
Actors are taught to understand their character's motivation. In mystery movies, the murderer must have motive. Usually that is greed, or jealousy, or maybe even passion. But without a very compelling reason, the crime is somehow hollow, and just not believable.
Few people recognize the name of Dr. William Spillman of Columbus. Even the marker is missing from his grave in Friendship Cemetery. His 1836 house still stands, but bears no historic marker or plaque. Spillman is a man lost in history.
Ever wonder why men adore long hair on women? I have pondered the notion for years and am stumped. Maybe it's because the majority of our mothers at some stage modeled longer hairstyles, or perhaps it dates back to that little girl in kindergarten who was a first crush.
On Wednesday afternoon, a tumultuous thunderstorm blew through. I was at the computer staring at the screen, doing my best to conjure up something to amuse you with before you have to leave for church later this morning.
As a little kid, Vacation Bible School was a highlight of summer. What could be cooler than making crafts, playing games; drinking grape Kool-Aid and eating sugar cookies with a hole in the middle held by a single finger?
Recently I was invited to attend a "Hardy Party," given by Lane Hardy Poirrot for her sister, Jane. It occurred to me, in the midst of so many members of that family, that they were pretty close to being a unique local phenomenon. I would venture to guess that at least half the people who went through high school in Columbus were in school with one or more Hardys. I asked some of them to share their family memories.
It seems that our needs are seldom satisfied. Our lives are filled with lack. Basic requirements go unfulfilled.
Quite often I think about independence, or the lack thereof. I imagine living without electricity and doubt if I really could. I would miss my electric coffee pot. I enjoy waking in the morning to Folgers brewing. I would miss that.
It was during my awkward freshman year in high school that I first fell in love with hair, my own. The television series "Growing Pains" was my favorite obsession, along with parachute pants, Swatch watches and fluorescent shoelaces.
A few years back, I subscribed to Netflix. Soon after Only Daughter and Third Favorite Child, who was living at home for a spell (too long), ordered one. She used it to stream Netflix's "watch instantly" movies from the Internet directly to her television.
These are tough days for the American patriot. The economy is in terrible shape, yet our government spends (seemingly) recklessly on projects of which we just do not approve. Still, taxes are raised on the battered, rapidly-disintegrating middle class, but reduced for the wealthiest among us.
Even using 45spf suntan lotion and wearing a big floppy hat, us gardeners have a hard time avoiding the effects of the sun. Then lo and behold, one day the family doctor said, "You're not getting enough vitamin D." Vitamin D comes from the sun.
It is said that everyone we meet was sent into our lives for a reason. Life on Earth is a series of lessons. We do not move on to the next existence until we learn them.
Most all of you "know" my mama, if only through the dozens of columns I have written about her over the years. She is sick right now, fighting a difficult health battle, and we appreciate any prayers you can send our way. It is, however, my daddy that I want to introduce to you today.
Memory is a strange thing. I wonder why I remember totally useless bits of trivia, but not where I put my keys (instead of the designated place for them) or what the price is for certain grocery items, information that could be useful.