Columnists

The Judge and me

Rick Ryckeley's picture

The pull of childhood memories is strong. A sight, a familiar smell, even a taste can transport us back in time in an instant. Melear’s Barbeque had all three.

To some, it was a meeting place to discuss the current politics of the day. To others, it was just another barbeque restaurant. For still others, the stopping point before the big race. To me, it was much, much more. Read More»

Note to Washington, D.C.: Limits and priorities

Terry Garlock's picture

I didn’t join the grand anticipation of the speech called the State of the Union. I didn’t expect much, but I’m unwilling to believe a lofty speech written by someone else could somehow transform President Obama into someone his actions have proven he is not. Read More»

With Egypt aflame, what’s next?

Cal Thomas's picture

The turmoil in Egypt must not be seen in isolation from other events in the world. Neither is it an aberration. It is the next scene in a long-running play whose final act is the domination of the world by radical Islamists. Read More»

Strength of Southern women

Ronda Rich's picture

The text that my sister sent was simple yet so powerful: “He is gone to be with God.”

For 36 hours, we had expected the inevitable but it is also inevitable that tears will come in times like that.

Richard, whom I had known since childhood, and who was much beloved by our family had succumbed to the curse of his bloodline – a heart disorder that has methodically, relentlessly claimed members of his family. His 36-year-old niece had died from it just a few weeks earlier. Read More»

Mary's life in Europe

Sallie Satterthwaite's picture

“Had my first grits, thanks for everything!”

Mary’s post-Christmas letter started with that heraldic proclamation. Our gifts to “our German daughter” in Düsseldorf were mailed from here in the first week of December. On that very day, she mailed gifts to us. Read More»

Actions have consequences

David Epps's picture

A few years ago, while on study leave in Ireland, I had a few moments to relax at an outdoor cafe one January evening in Dublin. It was around 5 p.m. and very dark except for the lights of the city. Suddenly, the offices closed and young professionals streamed out onto the city’s streets. Read More»

Questions from The Boy

Rick Ryckeley's picture

The first time I saw him his blue eyes looked up at me as a small hand wrapped around my finger, and I knew nothing for either of us would ever be the same again. The Boy doesn’t remember that day, the months or even the years that followed. But I was there. So it’s left up to me to give him a glimpse into his past, to show him where he came from, so he’ll know where’s he’s going and what awaits him when he gets there. Read More»

Creating jobs or laughs?

Terry Garlock's picture

All the presidential posturing about creating jobs is high comedy. Or tragedy. Or irony.

You probably know the president doesn’t create jobs. The business world creates jobs when a profit-seeking entrepreneur takes a risk on a new or expanded venture and needs new employees to get the job done. When entrepreneurs feel the threat of losses, they protect their capital with caution, contracting and laying off employees, destroying jobs. Read More»

38 years and 50 million killed

Cal Thomas's picture

When the leadership of the new Republican majority in the House of Representatives decided as their first act to have members read the U.S. Constitution aloud, there were some who wanted to emphasize that part of the original document which, for taxation, enumeration and representation purposes, decreed that slaves had only “three-fifths” the value of whites. That formula between Southern and Northern states, reached during the Philadelphia Convention of 1787, came to be known as the Three-fifths Compromise. Read More»

Coming out even in the end

Ronda Rich's picture

There was a man I knew once, who lived for a good time. Work, he believed and ardently practiced, was only good for providing a means to an end, the end result being that of his vigorous pursuit of wine, women and song.

Of course, in the case of any decent, self-respecting, old-fashioned Southern redneck, for him it was beer, not wine, but as any Puritan will tell you: The devil’s brew is the devil’s brew, no matter what it’s called. Read More»

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