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Columns

  • Still discovering Kentucky’s past

    As many of you know, I was born and raised in south Georgia but Kentucky has been home off and on for some 35 years. At least my mail has come to various addresses in the state.
    One of the many things that I love about Kentucky is the rich and colorful history that has shaped so many in the past.
    I have visited attractions around the state such as Shaker Village, Lincoln’s birthplace, the Belle of Louisville, Churchill Downs, the Louisville Slugger Museum, and various civil war battlefields.

  • Bring back the movie stores

    I can’t even believe I’m old enough to get on the “back-in-my-day” soap box. But apparently I am, so here we go.
    I’ve been robbed and Redbox is to blame.
    Once upon a time, before the consequences of instant gratification became evident, I was a young, teenage girl who absolutely loved going to the movie store.

  • Calculating the cost of raising kids

    I don’t normally share someone else’s opinion in this column. Counting today’s column, I’ve done this twice in almost six years of working at the paper.
    However, there are times when another paper expresses a position so well that instead of me trying to convey its message, I let them say it for me.
    One such editorial in the Kentucky Standard newspaper this week touched me in a special way, as it concerns who’s responsible for raising our kids.

  • Big time’s a-comin’ again

    I love Yosemite and everyone knows it. I believe there is only one person who loves Yosemite more than I do and that is C.J. Rayburn. I won’t even debate that. We both remember the days when there was more commerce in Yosemite. Well, there is about to be more soon because Dollar General is coming to town. What a hoot!

  • Following the rocky paths of life

    My wife and I began a journey six weeks ago that we never dreamed would beckon us to follow.
    What started as a normal Thursday morning started with a text and subsequent phone call from our daughter-in-law telling us that that our 31-year-old son had gotten drunk and crashed his car in Louisville sometime after midnight.
    Was he hurt? Did he hit anyone? Was he in jail? These questions and more flooded my mind as I sought to absorb this shocking information.
    Thankfully, she answered the above questions in the negative and told he was at home, asleep.

  • Take it from me, graduates

    As I watched graduates from the Casey County High School Class of 2014 wrap their eager hands around their diplomas, I couldn’t help but think about all of their differents futures, various paths, and most of all the lessons they will learn.
    I thought about my own high school graduation and how ready I was to say goodbye. I was so ready, in fact, that I graduated a year early at the age of 17.
    I ran out of those doors because I knew that college was where I was going to shine. And I wanted to get there as soon as I could.

  • The greatest generation indeed

    For years, I have been interested in the decade 1940-1950, where our young men and women sacrificed so much to fight the Nazi regime in Europe and the Japanese in the south Pacific.
    Never have so many Americans worked in concert to defend democracy and defeat two horrendous and oppressive governments bent on world domination.
    It’s amazing that our men and women both on the battlefield and at home never complained about anything. They knew the job had to get done and they did it.

  • My my, hay hay

    It’s that time of year again ― everywhere tractors are humming, dust and pollen are nesting on and in everything (including our noses), and most importantly, my daddy is baling hay.
    For many people, hay season is nothing but a long summer list of even longer days, working in the heat of the sun, stacking and unloading and stacking again. The square bales are itchy and never fail to leave microscopic scratches up and down your forearms.

  • ‘In the good ole summer time...’

    One of the things that I like about Facebook is people sharing memories from the dark ages, or as we Baby Boomers like to call them, the 1960s and 70s.
    It seems that this time of year, during the summer months, our memories fly back in time to those care free days of being out of school and late evenings of playing outside with friends.
    Neighbors and family members would sit outside and visit until it got dark and the mosquitos begin their quest to bite any exposed skin.

  • Safety first....no, seriously

    I received a bit of a wake up call last Thursday. I was in my usual “working while daydreaming” state of mind when my cell phone vibrated. It was a text from my boyfriend, Alex, and all it said was, “I think I may have cut my finger off.”