Yes, to Cop City

As our nation reacts this week to two avoidable deaths, Tyre Nichols in Memphis and activist/ protestor Manuel Teran, illegally camping on the grounds of the former Old Atlanta Prison Farm, one similarity stands out between the two.

A little girl’s smile

It had not been a good day. Nor a good week. Nor a good month. Or two. Here’s the thing about the television business: It looks easy but few jobs are harder. Working in television can be rougher than the hottest day in a hay field. And much less rewarding.

There’s a new speaker in town

State Representative Jon Burns (R-District 159) of Newington in Effingham County, is not new to the State House, having joined the body in 2005. Nor is he new to leadership, having served as GOP House Majority Leader since 2015.

Remembering the good who die too young

On Sept. 13, 2008, we got a call while at St. Simons that our grandson, Zachary Earl Wansley, had collapsed and died during a training run while preparing for the Atlanta Marathon.Zack was the epitome of a scholar-athlete.

The power of friendships

It happened the other day. I was reminded of the richness of my life because of the treasure trove of long, lasting friendships. Kim called to tell me about running into a mutual friend. Bridget called to ask for a small piece of advice.

Aiming for a three-peat

There will always be interesting vignettes in sports histories, some current, but most of them retold with a new perspective as a fragile world turns.

Uncomfortable truths are needed at times

By the late 1970s, the famed, nearly 50-foottall Cyclorama painting of the Battle of Atlanta during the Civil War was moldy, wet and rotting in places, slowly making its way toward a landfill somewhere.

Happy birthday to a special ‘seminary of learning’

The year was 1785. Thirteen states composed the Confederation Congress. Thomas Jefferson was appointed U.S. Minister to France and John Adams, U.S. Ambassador to the United Kingdom.

To see the thunder

There is a scripture in the Bible. As far as I know, it is not in all translations of the Bible. But this I know for certain: it is in the King James Version. When I was 10, perhaps 11, Daddy preached the scripture from the roughhewn pine pulpit in the tiny one-room mountain church we attended.

Musings from the left coast

My first visit to California in the late 1980s was part of an ill-fated love connection.