The classic line from the film “Love Story” is “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” The screenwriter obviously never left the toilet seat up.

I kid, I kid.

Ultimately, what the line really means is that if you truly love someone, you will always forgive them because you know their heart is in the right place. Read More»

Prior to last Wednesday morning, I had never camped outside a store for anything. By the time I was interested in going to concerts, the days of camping outside a music store or a Ticketmaster outlet were nearly over and there has never been a deal good enough to slice through the fog of my Thanksgiving food coma to get me out on Black Friday. Last week I was finally presented with something that I would wait in a line all night for - a chance to meet Stephen King and have him sign a book. Read More»

How busy are you in November?

Before you start to list things like “grabbing up all the fake cobwebs your kids put on the bushes” and “that thing with the Thompsons on the 12th or is it the 13th?” ask yourself if you’re really too busy to do something awesome and something that will, no kidding, change your life. Read More»

News has a way of sneaking up on you.

On Wednesday, R.E.M. announced their break-up and, although it isn’t surprising or terribly upsetting, it came out of nowhere. They had released their last album, “Collapse Into Now,” earlier this year and I just assumed that they would be a band with a presence in pop culture until it just wasn’t physically possible anymore. That’s just the way things seem to go with the biggest rock bands in the world.

I’m looking at you Rolling Stones and The Who. Read More»

Do you know what the gift for a 10th wedding anniversary is? Tin.

Or aluminum.

Industry and their lobbyists, am I right?

After many hours, secretly working in our new and improved basement workshop and craft area (thank you, in-laws), trying to craft an amazing 10th wedding anniversary gift with tin, aluminum foil and other shiny and cheap materials, I’ve got nothing. I realize that I’ve got eight more days until the actual anniversary, but you could give me 80, 800 or 8,000 and it will always look like a dull and crinkled mess. Or an ash tray and Sabine, my wife, does not smoke. Read More»

I ran into my creative writing teacher from high school, Mrs. Horton, at Omega Books a while back. She remembered me, which was nice, especially since I was only at McIntosh for six months before graduating, and said she saw my writing in the paper over the years. I told her I kept in touch (on Facebook) with other members from our class and from Voices (the school’s literary magazine). It was good to catch up with her.

Mrs. Horton, ahead of me in line, had an armful of books. I spotted John Irving’s “A Prayer for Owen Meany” in the pile and winced and groaned. Read More»

That’s a Guided by Voices song. I saw them at The Cotton Club (remember that place?) in Atlanta a long time ago with my friends John Thompson and Lindsay Bianchi. Lindsay was an editor for this section more than a few years back. He passed away the other day and he will be missed.

In the scope of things, I did not know Lindsay for a very long time. I met him through John and we discovered that we shared a number of common interests: indie rock, cult movies, Pee Wee Herman.

You know, the usual things. Read More»

In a recent column I talked about playing games with my five year old son. In the column I mentioned my daughter and stated she was another story. She is. And that is an understatement.

My daughter is two, as in terrible two, which many people will try to tell you is a myth. Prior to her, my wife and I thought it was just an old wives tale. After all, our son didn’t have terrible twos. He had what we called “terrible threes” although now, comparing them to what our little girl is giving us each day, we realize he was giving us a walk on the beach in happy, dappled sunshine. Read More»

My son, Colin, is five years old. Like every other kindergartner I’ve met, he is constantly fidgeting, incessantly talking (or, more likely, just making noise to hear himself) and he always wants to play. All hail the kindergarten teachers and parapros who put their sanity on the line each day dealing with these active children and their active imaginations. Trying to keep up with one (as well as his younger sister, but she’s another story) is exhausting, but for his emotional well-being and the strength of the family I feel I must push on and try to keep up with him. Read More»

Fayetteville resident Kelly Smith Beaty’s run on “The Apprentice” is over.

Fresh off of a week where Kelly looked like the star, she became Fortitude’s project manager in a task involving establishing 15-minute pedi-cab tours of somewhere in Manhattan. Now I don’t know if she was employing strategy (volunteer for project manager while your previous success may still be fresh in everyone's mind) or if she was urged by others to step up, but it backfired. The women were destroyed in the task by Octane (the men) who set up a chariot-themed pedi-cab tour around Trump Tower and Fifth Avenue. Read More»