It was where I went when I wanted to be alone; it was where I went when I was frustrated or mad at my parents; it was where I went when I wanted a place to think and dream; it was a place where I saw my future. I occasionally visited during the day, but an airport is magical at night.
It was November, and the people who run things in Mississippi, including those not working out of the offices of ALEC in D.C., were breathing a collective sigh of relief.
Winter's cold blast caused us to hunker down at the Prairie house.
The premise of an offer to operate a charter school is, "Hey, we can do it better than you."
February is Black History Month and is a great time to review the little told but very important role of blacks in the exploration and settlement of the Tombigbee River Valley.
In Tupelo, Elvis is king. In fact, he is more prominent in death than he ever was in life. Up until his death in 1977, the only homage paid to the entertainer in the town of his birth was a small park in East Tupelo, which was home to a swimming pool, youth center and the small two-room shotgun house where he was born in 1935. There were no celebrations or festivals in the city to celebrate him.
During a recent televised MSU men's basketball game something crystallized for me. The camera was focused on the band, which was whipping the crowd into a frenzy -- not too difficult seeing as we were leading Ole Miss.
On Tuesday, Columbus interim police chief Fred Shelton spoke at the Columbus Rotary Club at Lion Hills Center. Although he has made numerous public appearances in the roughly three months he has served as interim chief, this was just the second time I had heard him speak.
Imagine Harry lying cold, alone, and flat on his back as the sky darkened over him. Could he feel the darkness he couldn't see? His sister, Wilhelmina, was she nearby? Did they nuzzle together crying for their mother?
Last week I saw an article about finding a shark on the Tombigbee River in Alabama.
It is the 15th year since the creation of the Greater Starkville Development Partnership (GSDP).
Eighteenth Century British essayist Samuel Johnson once observed of a friend who was planning to re-marry a few years after his first marriage ended badly, "It is a triumph of hope over experience."
It is Twelfth Night. Beneath a balcony in the French Quarter, we listen as dignitaries high above welcome Joan of Arc and the start of Carnival season.
On Dec. 18, 2015, I resolved not to purchase any apparel, including shoes or accessories, for a whole year.
She was an immigrant, accompanying her new husband in search of the American Dream. Eighteen years his junior, she spoke minimal English and left every relative across the Atlantic.
A letter from a 93-year-old woman in Bartahatchie leads to living room in Brooksville. There on Thursday afternoon I heard stories about long-ago teenagers dancing barefoot in a local dance hall and learned some of the finer points of making Jerusalem artichoke relish.
Horses and earthquakes may seem like an unusual mix of topics for a column that is generally about history and it is.
It seems to be an issue that isn't an issue but is, if you know what I mean.
With insidious truth managers dominating social media, the Internet, the blogosphere, talk radio, and cable news, how can the average citizen uncover reality?
It began with a trickle of spectators braving the frosty early morning Tuesday to watch as the Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania-based River Salvage Co. arrived at the John C. Stennis Lock & Dam to start work on removing two barges that had lodged against the dam, one half-submerged, the other resting tranquilly atop it.
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