As I am writing this, it is a day of celebration . . . the anniversary of my daughter’s arrival on this planet. I will not divulge her age since 1) it isn’t pertinent to the story, and 2) if you saw her, you wouldn’t believe me anyway. As is customary, at 7:30 this morning (the time may vary from year to year), I tapped her number in my Favorites list and waited . . .
Cardinals. One of the most brightly colored birds of the bird world—at least if they’re male. Like so many of their counterparts, the females get to pick and choose among their suitors, so the males have to really show up and show out.
Father. It seems like such a formal word. Like the title you heard the Banks children bestow upon their patriarch when they were allowed to speak with him in Mary Poppins . . .
Eighty years ago today, under the less than protective cover of darkness, the Allies began their invasion of Normandy.
As my children were growing up, Thanksgiving and Christmas meals with the Thomas clan found the family divided into two groups—the grown-ups and the kids. The grown-ups were allowed to sit around the formal dining room table while the kids were relegated to the folding tables that were always set up in the middle of the living room.
If you don’t want to think about their lives and deaths or the grim realities of war, then please go on about your day without reading any further. But at the very least, when this coming Monday dawns, I hope you will realize that wishing people a “Happy Memorial Day” is contrary to what this day truly represents.
In the sacred ground of Macedonia Cemetery, just across County Road 158 from the Macedonia Church of Christ in Lauderdale County, Alabama, rests the mortal remains of Robert Lee Cooper, the three year old son of Joseph and Mary Ellen “Mollie” Cooper.
Have you ever listened as a couple exchanged traditional wedding vows? I mean really listened to the words . . . to understand how solemn those promises are when they are made in earnest? Surely, we all know them by heart (or at least a reasonable facsimile thereof) . . .
I was coming back from Florence when I decided to take a detour onto County Road 5. After traveling a mile or so, I came to County Road 158; a right turn and a quarter mile more took me to the Macedonia Church of Christ on the left and Macedonia Cemetery on the right. Since the cemetery was my intended destination, I veered right.
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