Commentary on Current Events of Interest to Columbus, and the Surrounding Counties of NC
By Katie Compton Boyd It was a rookie mistake buying an 8-year-old boy a very realistic rubber rattlesnake. I knew too, at the time, that its fangs might be plastic but this was going to bite me in th...
The phone rang, strident and screaming in the pre-dawn, at an hour that nothing good ever comes via telephone call. I tapped Toni the Pillow Puppy, and she moved without even waking up. The caller ID ...
Editor’s note — we’re pleased to welcome Katie Compton Boyd to Columbuscountynews.com. Katie is the owner and operator of Old South Tour Company in Southport. Rather than tell you ab...
Two conversations with dear friends got me to thinking the other day about what things will be like when “this is all over.” Whether “this” is the pandemic, the quarantine, the civil unrest, the safet...
The dogs looked not just happy, but ecstatic. I sometimes think hounds look forward to the start of hunting seasons more than the hunters themselves. Their heads stuck out between the edge of the dog...
Every missing person is somebody’s child. The yellow ribbons are gone and forgotten now. We put yellow ribbons up to welcome people home, or remind folks of those who haven’t yet come home. I ne...
Wherever it came from, whoever is behind it, whatever the reasons – burning, looting , and threatening have no positive effects on anyone. On the 19th anniversary of the night a young deputy di...
Most of us have seen them as we drive through the country; groves of trees, sometimes tangled with honeysuckle, grapevines and wisteria, poison ivy and persimmons, surrounded by plowed rows of next ye...
Officers are being attacked, ridiculed, injured, and killed all over this country. This must stop! Let everyone submit to the governing authorities, since there is no authority except from God, and th...
What happened to the country we all saw on Sept. 12, 2001? It’s still here, but you have to look. Like most of you, I can remember the day in crisp detail. It was a beautiful, glorious September...
The possum raised his nose, picking up a half-dozen scents – chickens, eggs, the dodgasted geese, dogs, cats, cat food, the empty garbage can , horses, the stinking goat. On the evening breeze there w...
Even though this year is different in so many ways, September is a month of golden promise. My shirt was soaked, despite having been relieved of its sleeves and collars somewhere in a previous life, w...
She looked far healthier than when I saw her the first time, or later when I saw her photo, wearing a yellow smock on my daily jail report. She made the perfect image of a pretty Saturday morning. I m...
Curse words were once intended for emphasis, or (as the name implies) to wish a curse upon someone. Sadly, those same terms are now more common than additional condiments with a bag of fast food. When...
Papa and I had the big house on Divine Street all to ourselves. We decided we were going to a ball game. We had big plans, the Old Man and I, but they didn’t quite work out like we expected. Papa love...
Jefferson Weaver As I write these words, tornadoes have spun off a hurricane that has turned my pastures to mud, my ditches into creeks, and my road into a river. My goats are squalling in outrage at ...