Columns

It was a perfect late-spring Saturday.

I stopped long ago reading comments under news articles and opinion pieces. Not because I don’t believe readers should have the opportunity to comment, but mostly because nothing about what is posted is helpful or constructive.

“Late at night when it’s hard to rest/I hold your picture to my chest/ and I feel fine, I feel fine/But it’s a rainy night in Georgia…” – written by Tony Joe White and performed by Brook Benton.

A million years ago, we were worried about who was going to win the Iowa Caucuses, and then Super Tuesday, and then when Bernie Sanders was finally going to pack it in.

It’s high time Americans accept a first-world side effect of the COVID-19 pandemic, and I don’t mean those blasted directional floor stickers I can’t navigate in the aisles at Walmart. No, I’m referring to male-pattern corona hair.

One of my biggest pet peeves: people who can’t hold up their end of a conversation.

My mother texted me a photograph on Sunday. That doesn’t sound like a newsworthy occasion, but mom had never texted anything to me or anyone else, ever. It was a photo of the flowers I sent her for Mother’s Day.

Thank you, Class of 2020! It’s an honor to be delivering your college commencement address, even with this awkward Zoom connection. Testing…

The murder hornets don’t stand a chance.
We’re still amid a pandemic that has dragged on way too long, producing far too many bizarre, exaggerated doomsday scenarios on social media.

I have been trying to do my civic duty. I stay more than 6 feet away from most people. I live alone, so my trips to the store are surgical strikes.