Two Bibles sit, always untouched, on the fireplace mantle in our living room.
When we decided to visit the few remaining members of Tink's family who live in Connecticut and New York, we chose to drive.
It was about 1 a.m. when our alarm system woke me up with the beeping sound that it makes when one of the exterior doors is opened. The beep was coming from the front door.
When he asked, I answered. Then I laughed.
As the years of Mama's life grew long into the shadows of age, she managed to squeeze every bit of good out of growing old.
The despair in their eyes haunts me still. The dullness of emotion and deadness of spirit shall remain forever embedded in my memory.
It happened, I suppose, when I was in the fourth grade. That is my first strong recollection of the unfairness of life.
Over the course of many years, I have spent a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms, hoping for good news and dreading the bad at the same time.
As the old year spits and sputters to an end and the new one waits in the wings, straining with enthusiasm to burst forth with fresh hope, I see things differently than I have in past years when I wrote this New Year's column.
So it was several years ago, I was hired to speak on a few occasions for riverboat cruises on the Mississippi.
When I was a young sports writer, just beginning an education on the world of sports and the men who made the majors great, I was fascinated with NFL quarterback Kenneth Michael "Ken" Stabler.
Editor's note: Penning this week's column is Ronda Rich's husband, John "Tink" Tinker
It didn't surprise me it was him. Although such had never crossed my mind, it was, of course, just the kind of thing he would do.
An email arrived in the middle of the night in August. It said my precious friend Randy Parks, one of the dearest friends of my life, was back in the hospital with congestive heart failure.
The honorable Zell Miller of Young Harris, Ga., was raised by a remarkable mountain woman.
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As a child, I was captivated by emotional stories and how words strung together had the power to make me feel happy, touched, sad or ...
At the beauty shop one day, I was flipping through a magazine and half-listening to the local happenings.
We were driving to the Georgia coast through little towns in which few live and even fewer know. It was near Appling County, I believe ...
Since the beginning of our Southerner/Yankee union, I have kept a list of places Tink should visit to fully experience the glorious South.
We were eating lunch as the American Queen riverboat pulled out of port, having just returned from a morning-long excursion to the Battlefield of Vicksburg.
Behind the little house where I spent a happy childhood, where I toted books from one room to another, where I knelt by my bed ...
It did not turn out as I intended.
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