Ed Phillips looked like a man you might have seen sauntering down the gangplank of a Mississippi riverboat at the foot of Canal Street sometime in the mid-1800s. Barrel chested, uncommonly handsome and with a voice that rumbled like distant thunder, Ed would have been a more-than-adequate stand-in for Clark Gable in that actor's most memorable role. Ed died Saturday a week ago. He was 80.
When the two terrorist killings happened in France, we were all glued to our TVs. First was the attack Wednesday morning Jan. 7 at the Paris office of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine where eight journalists, two policemen and two other people were shot and killed. The next morning a policewoman was killed by a second terrorist south of Paris.
I learned of Ed's passing while onboard a small yacht in Keppel Marina in Singapore in a brief email from my dear friend Capt. Sid Caradine, obviously sent well after Sid's normal early-to-bed-and-early-to-rise routine.
Tuesday evening, the Columbus City Council appointed two members to the Columbus Municipal School District - Stephen Jones and Currie Fisher.
Imagine being a farmer. Imagine plowing, sowing and, when the time is right, harvesting your best crop ever.
Dan Mullen breezed into the Starkville Country Club 15 minutes late for his speaking engagement at the Starkville Rotary Club.
On days when fishing is out of the question and the 24/7 news has taken its circuitous route about dozen times and the SEC channel is showing decades-old football games, Sam opens a book.
Maybe it strains the limits of plausibility to claim to have found a penny in front of a place called "Down to the Penny Accounting Tax Service," but there on the sidewalk was Honest Abe in profile. Not one to shun the prospect of good luck, I bent over and picked it up.
At the most recent MLK equality march I had an acquaintance pause long enough to ask me to talk with him about a homeless shelter for Starkville.
My grandfather was a share-cropper in Tippah County, a widower trying to raise six daughters in the height of The Great Depression.
A few warm days fooled the ladybugs into coming out of hiding. There they were -- a few on the windowsill, one or two on the bedside rug; Sam pointed to the ceiling and asked, "Is that a spot?"
About two winters ago while riding alone in the rain in an ATV, I surprised two deer bedded down in a thicket of scrubby trees. Once rousted, the deer sprinted alongside me for four or five seconds before veering off and vanishing into nearby woods. It happened so suddenly and was over so quickly, I was left wondering if it had happened at all.
There are board meetings and then there are board meetings.
I saw a documentary on immigration two nights ago and I was fascinated by what I learned, although it painted a disturbing picture.
The New York Times comes to the mailbox in fits and starts, sometimes three papers a day, often none at all.
The little guy has won a slobber-knocker in Mississippi.
Saturday Night Live celebrated its 40th year with a 3 1/2-hour prime time special Sunday evening.
As the days grow longer and the sun shines warmer and the occasional temperatures tip 70 degrees, a retired man's fancy turns to fishing.
Whenever I write a column about the Tombigbee and mention bridges, I am almost always asked whether the 1928 bridge at Columbus was really a draw bridge.
Media personas were prominent in the news this past week. NBC News anchor Brian Williams' career went up in flames; former 60 Minutes correspondent Bob Simon was killed in a car crash in New York City; Jon Stewart announced plans to leave The Daily Show and Thursday night New York Times media critic David Carr collapsed in his paper's newsroom and shortly after was pronounced dead.
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2. Wyatt Emmerich: Our broken prison system LOCAL COLUMNS
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