Who doesn't want to live better? Since the column on sauntering a few folks have shared ways they enjoy nature and its restorative benefits.
Not long ago a man walked up to me in Kroger and, in a barely audible voice, said, "My wife told me I ought to get in touch with you; I have something you might be interested in."
Students, parents and teachers have an opportunity for the next 30 days to weigh in on proposed changes to the diplomas offered to Mississippi's young people graduating from high school.
My grandchildren Harper and Sykes are visiting from Virginia and wanted to go hunting, dinosaur and shark hunting.
My friend and I met down by the Riverwalk along the Tombigbee River. We had already agreed this was to be a leisurely walk.
The new crop of Americans has several markers, experts say. One helps explain why fewer of them choose to live in Mississippi.
Late Tuesday afternoon five people are sitting in the living room of the small brick house Marion Fairchild shares with Joyce, his wife of 50-plus years.
In history books we read the big picture of important events, but all too often the details and working personalities behind those events are overlooked.
As you enter the town of Hamilton and turn onto Old Highway 45, the first thing you notice is the sprawling Tronox facility.
There's nothing wrong with being a Christian. In fact, I highly recommend it. There's also nothing wrong with people allowing their faith to inform their decision-making, in any sphere.
Passing by the raised beds, I noticed weeds popping up so I stopped, plucked a few, and flung them into the grass. Either Sam would mow over them or perhaps they would take root in the bare spots, but probably not.
Charlie Faulk was patient. As the first managing editor to shepherd me, he had to be. He's gone now -- 27 years -- but America and American journalism are in sore need of his gentle good humor and wisdom.
The three-foot-long rat snake sprawled across the entrance of the barn like he owned the place. I could feel the hair on the back of my neck tingle. "He's here for the mice, the rats," I said to myself. "That's a good thing; he means no harm to you."
Last week, I ventured south to spend a day at Episcopal Camp Bratton-Green, 9 miles north of Canton, at Way.
Back at the public library, I slid the book off the shelf.
When you boil it down to the nub, every citizen of Mississippi except bona fide members of the Mississippi Band of Choctaw Indians, is an immigrant or descended from an immigrant.
Ronald Sanders stood at the podium, urging his former classmates to grab a seat so the official 50th class reunion for R.E. Hunt High School could begin.
Karen and I began our Independence Day weekend traveling to the Delta and visiting a place that time surely has forgotten.
A long unused Kindle Fire lay gathering dust on an end table in our living room. Across the room, a gaming system sat similarly idle - its once enthusiasm-fueled glow lost to homework, youth sports, piano lessons and other fixtures of our family's weekly grind.
The announcement that Southern Company was throwing in the towel on Kemper's lignite gasification came as no surprise.
1. Charlie Mitchell: Room for improvement in America's discourse NATIONAL COLUMNS
2. Possumhaw: The restorative power of nature LOCAL COLUMNS
3. Editorial Cartoons for 7-24-17 NATIONAL COLUMNS