There is just something about Christmas Eve. The first half is pure crazy with people rushing to finish their shopping, work or whatever has to be done before the holiday.
I haven't been to a Halloween party in years, and this year is no exception.
As a son of the South, I'm the first to admit we've had some governors who didn't make us look too good in the eyes of the rest of the nation and, for that matter, the world.
Someone decided a few years ago that October was the month we focus on cancer, primarily breast cancer.
Christmas was always one of those days we used the good china. We also ate in the dining room.
This is one of those columns to clear a few notes from my desk.
Last week, I made a friendly wager with a newspaper friend in Cairo over the outcome of the Cairo-Flowery Branch game. I lost.
I'm not as up to speed as I should be on voodoo.
All I want for Christmas is a baton.
If there was ever a picture of a nice guy, it was Frank Harris.
This is another one of those Tevye the Milkman weeks for me.
Christmas cards date back to the mid-1800s, and like me, they are quickly becoming dinosaurs.
We have a new president, and I make it a point not to delve into politics in this space.
I've moved a few times in my life and quite frankly, I despise it.
Sometimes, you just have to wonder what people are thinking when they do really stupid stuff.
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Billie Van Dyke's life in the restaurant business has been a bit like riding a roller-coaster.
First, for nine months, often through morning sickness and aching feet, back and elsewhere, mothers carry a baby until he or she is ready to debut.
A few weeks ago, I was standing on the porch of someone's home in the mountains. As the sun was going down, I looked out at the beautiful peaks that decorate the northern part of our state.
There is no battle between the observance of Easter and Christmas. But if you're taking a vote, I'm an Easter person.
I married into a family that has generational roots in Gainesville. They go back long before the War of Northern Aggression.
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