Articles by Birney Imes
On Friday, two days before Valentine’s Day, Laura Goolsby Vernon got a call from a friend about a puppy.
Who would have ever thought playing a video game, taking a cold shower and standing on one leg are pathways to better health.
An old friend, he of retirement age, has taken up kayaking. He has embraced the sport with the zeal a teenager might have for a cell phone or Facebook account.
When I was a kid it wasn’t uncommon to see the scores of World Series games as the top headline in this newspaper.
Recently I’ve been thinking about a grandfather I never knew. Birney Imes, Sr. died in 1948, in the decade before I was born. I know
The week was consumed with photography.
On the fence about getting the COVID vaccine?
To lose a sibling. It seems like an impossibility. They’ve always been there; they would always be there, right?
When I was a kid playing football at Joe Cook Jr. High under Oop Swoope and desperate to put meat on my skinny bones, I’d accompany my dad’s secretary, a droll, long-limbed spinster named Helen Gault to Morris Boarding House for lunch.
HORSE CAVE, Ky. — Say you’ve been driving all day in the heat, as I had several weeks ago, and you’ve made it through Nashville
Here’s an adage about trees in the form of a riddle:
When’s the best time to plant a tree?
Answer: Twenty years ago.
When’s the second best time to plant a tree?
I’d been paddling for several hours when I stopped to check in with Neal. He was in Rising Sun, Indiana, at a hamburger stand called the Patty Wagon eating an ice cream cone.
Joseph W. Mickens, Sr. is running late. He just phoned to say he was on his way from Starkville and would be here in five minutes.
I love this place. With the exception of my college years, I’ve lived virtually my entire life in Columbus.
I have friends, amateur farmers like myself, who rhapsodize about the joys of bush hogging.
One morning in June of 2020, Robert Gregg got up before dawn, drove to a regional farmers’ market and bought a trailer-load of watermelons.
We had been on the road for about an hour. Ross, with our two kayaks strapped to the top of his Volkswagen, was following me down a narrow, unpopulated country road northeast of Aliceville, Alabama.
For years I’ve admired the yard of Glenda and Raymond Gross. Last week, seeing them at work, I stopped to admire their work up close and visit. I first met Raymond years ago at the YMCA when we both played handball.
Look up the word “peripatetic” in a thesaurus and take your pick: nomadic, traveling, wandering, roving, roaming. You can’t describe Neal Moore without using one of them.
If you happened to be walking down Eighth Street North after the rains on Thursday, chances are around the 800 block on the right side of the street you would have noticed the dogwood draped in wisteria, both in full bloom.