Commentary on Current Events of Interest to Columbus, and the Surrounding Counties of NC
Tuesday, April 25, 1978, was a beautiful spring day. A new department store had opened in town, and a beauty queen cut the ribbon. It was an election year, so...
Happy Wade is my new hero. To begin with, that’s a great name. I’ve never met him, but I know folks who know him. All indications are he’s a regular...
Let’s get something straight — I am not a racist, nor am I a bigot. There’s a difference, and neither have traits I tolerate. I’m not going to follow the...
At sunrise and sunset, every day, they face off. One always keeps the sun at his back, as fighters have done for centuries. Their voices ring through the hollow, their...
The box, like many, still bears the marks of time, a flood, and a half-dozen moves. Faded magic marker, remnants of an organized attempt at relocating from one home to...
It’s been a year now since we allowed the politicians to take us hostage with a virus. Don’t get me wrong – I do not doubt that COVID-19 is dangerous,...
By Katie Compton Boyd His math grades aren’t perfect. His handwriting can be sloppy and rushed at best. He’s outgrowing pants and shoes in record time. I have to remind...
I finally caught Hope on a day when the thermometer in the truck read 105. She was mangy, covered in ticks, scratched up and infected. She was too hot, tired...
For nearly a year, it lay waiting. Half-covered by rank grass, half-shaded by the scrub oaks and desperate pines, shielded from traffic by little more than a half-hearted blackberry bramble...
It surprises, even shocks, some people when they realize the woman in the black and white swimsuit pictures is my mother. Neither photo is objectionable, especially not by modern standards....
As I write these words, my ditches are overflowing, my animals are fractious, my pants are wet from the waist down and the ankles up, my shoulder hurts, I’m not...
Gentlemen, fix your sons. The other night, I had stopped at a gas station to feed my ancient Tahoe, Valkyria. One pump down was one of those ridiculous, repulsive squatted...
I‘ve driven past it dozens if not hundreds of times through the years. The post is made from wood of a kind we don’t see anymore, cured heart longleaf pine,...
We call it the Blue Room, simply because that’s the color of the walls. The modern term is “man cave,” which I despise almost as much as the phrase “she...
Every time we turn around lately, somebody is angry or offended or something. Indeed, it almost seems to be worse as we’ve moved closer to Christmas. That bothers me. We...
Editor’s note: Times may change, society may evolve, and even newspapers change the way they deliver current events, commentary and the events of daily life.Some things, however, never change. W...