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.
The other day I had something on my mind, a situation we just encountered with someone we had sought to help.
The other morning, I called one of my best friends. I had a bit of news as well as a piece of advice I wanted to share.
A few years ago, a gentleman went to a lot of trouble to write me a simple letter he sent to the newspaper where he reads this column, which the newspaper then mailed to me.
The dread of death, I have come to know, is as fierce and unrelenting as a tornado in full destruction mode.
When the Chattanooga Better Business Bureau hired me as the keynote speaker for its annual luncheon, the president and CEO was very specific on what he wanted me to say.
On a day that I was visiting someone in a nursing home, angels (disguised as caregivers) came in and requested I step out while they worked.
All my life, as long as I can recall, Mama saved things.
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One of my favorite characters ever and one readers have unfailingly enjoyed is my friend, Poet, the scion of a cotton family who speaks in ...
One Saturday morning, I ran by the bank to pick up a checkbook that had arrived and found the place to be unusually busy.
It's hard to find a good mud hole these days.
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