You'd better sit down for this one. I must confess that I, your modest and much-beloved columnist, don't have all the answers. (I can hear the gasps from Adel to Zebulon.)
I was deep in thought on my back porch at Big Canoe in the North Georgia mountains when the phone rang. It was Sen. Saxby Chambliss calling from Washington. He sounded as if he had been rode hard and put away wet. Given his druthers, I suspect he would have preferred sitting on the porch staring at the mountains than stuck in Washington with a group of people sporting a 13 percent approval ...
I will have more to say on the subject in a few weeks, but your response to my request for supplies for Marine Lt. Frank Wilson and his Light Armored Reconnaissance unit in Afghanistan has been nothing short of spectacular. I talked recently to Lt. Wilson's father, also named Frank, an attorney in Cobb County, to let him know what you have done. He is very grateful to you.
Hooray for Bill Curry! He is the new football coach of the Georgia State University Panthers.
When roaming the political jungles of Georgia, beware of the Killer B's: Barr (Bob) is running for president; Bubba (aka, Lauren McDonald) is running for the Georgia Public Service Commission; Barnes (former Democratic Gov. Roy) is being encouraged to run for anything, as is Bowers (former State Attorney General Michael).
Since I had talked recently to David Egan -- whose group, the Initiative to Protect Jekyll Island, has great concerns about the island's proposed revitalization -- I thought it only fair to see what the Jekyll Island Authority has to say. (Besides, it affords me the opportunity to stop by the exquisite little Georgia Sea Grill on St. Simons Island and stuff my face with corn-fried shrimp. Being a modest and much-beloved columnist ...
There are no two ways about it: Being a grandfather is better than a plateful of hot buttered biscuits. Nothing compares to it. Nothing comes close.
I have met the real Forrest Gump. Not the ninny sitting on a Savannah park bench, prattling about a box of chocolates. His name is Sammy L. Davis and he is a recipient of the Medal of Honor, this nation's highest award for military heroism.
OK, listen up. I have a job for you. Actually, it's not a job. It's a good deed.
I learned the hard way in my corporate life never to underestimate the power of grass-roots organizations. They are always the last to blink in a fight. I have the scars to prove it.
What are we going to do with Jimmy Carter? The man has gone from being a joke to someone who is suddenly very unfunny.
What did you do on Sept. 11, 2001 when you realized Islamic terrorists had slammed airplanes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, killing thousands of innocent people?
OK everybody, give me a break. If I have done something wrong, it is not my fault. I'm not trying to make excuses for irritating the bejeezus out of you, but I just can help myself. If you must know, I am sleep-deprived. Me and Hillary.
No good deed goes unpunished. When Gov. Sonny Perdue convened a meeting at the state Capitol last November to pray for rain, a lot of snooty-noses scoffed. Not me. I told my friends they had better find their umbrellas because the governor had asked none other than Dr. Gil Watson, the World's Greatest Preacher, to intercede with God and send some H2O to Georgia.
It grieves me to hear people complain about all the "crooked politicians" in our government. I have spent much of my adult life around the political arena and, popular though it may be, the perception that our public officials are generally a bad lot is incorrect.
It was as ugly as a wart hog, but for the 11th time in the past 12 years, 38th of the past 50 and 65th out of 108, the University of Georgia, the oldest state-chartered university in the nation, located in Athens, the Classic City of the South has bested You-Know-Where Institute of Technology for the State Football Championship, 41-34.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Last week, family and friends gathered in the small town of Chattahoochee Hills, south of Atlanta, to celebrate a life well-lived. Our late grandson, Zack Wansley, was honored at the dedication of "Zack's Glade," a pristine and picturesque piece of Cochran Mill Park near where he died while training for the Atlanta Marathon in 2008.
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