• On Walker’s Bend, where I come from, when a loved one died we didn’t have a proper funeral home; we had Bro. Rannie. He was a mortician and part time taxidermist. He didn’t advertise it, but if you used him for your funeralizing needs, he would mount your next deer head free.  

  • Years ago, I attended a seminar at my church where the speaker, a pastor from a church in San Francisco, quite possibly the coolest city on earth, talked about the “counterintuitive way of doing church.”
    He challenged us to make church a place where those outside the faith could feel welcome as they worked out their process.
    Church, he said, should be a place that encourages questions, gives space for doubt and doesn’t demand that people make on-the-spot faith decisions. Church should be a safe place where people can try faith on, test it out.

  • Mar. 20, 1986 (30 years ago)
    The Trimble County Fiscal Court took glancing blows from all directions at its regular monthly meeting Monday as groups of citizens came before the court to hash over topics ranging from roads to the yard sale resolution made at the court’s February meeting. There were concerned citizens who had circulated a petition in the interest of keeping the courthouse yard open to yard sales.

  • Maybe it’s because I didn’t grow up with the type of technology to which today’s youth have access. Maybe it’s because my vision has worsened exponentially over the past few years; or maybe, just maybe I’ve discovered yet another flaw in a structure not quite up to code. Whatever it may be I’ve come to the realization that computers make me nauseous.

  • On Facebook it is real easy to quit being a friend with someone with whom you were once warm and fuzzy. A hover of the cursor and the click of a button and they have been dropped-kicked right out of your digital life as if they never existed, no explanations, quick, efficient and done.  

  • Once upon a time I had $3 pants.
    Dark, forest-y green rayon pinstriped dress slacks, with teeny flecks of black in the fabric. Regularly $45 marked down to $14.29 with an additional 30 percent off, then another 70 percent off -- $3 pants!
    I was so excited about my purchase that when I got them home I immediately put them in a place of honor in my closet and sat on my bed to admire my precious find.
    That’s when I realized I had nothing to wear with them. After much thought I decided a collarless black jacket would be perfect to go with my $3 pants.

  • March 13, 1986 (30 Years Ago)

  • As a child I had three of the common fears; I was afraid of thunder, the dark, and small, enclosed spaces. I was okay as long as I had some sort of light to enable me to make out the objects in the room. For some odd reason pitch black made me feel as if I was smothering. I suppose this is where claustrophobia steps up to the plate. The bottom bunk was impossible for me. In the dark it felt as if I was entombed.

  • My wife and I recently downsized. As we sifted through nearly 40 years of married life we both struggled with what to keep, what to give away and what needed to be thrown away. The death of a daughter, five siblings, both of our mothers and my father had made us realize the importance of cherishing memories of our times with them.

  • March 6, 1986 (30 Years Ago)

  • The candles were lit, my favorite dish was cooking, my wife had a smile on her face……no it wasn’t THAT- but thanks for the boost to my 62 year old male ego!!!!
    “Honey,” she said, (that was a good sign) “kids are grown….and gone (we hope) it is time we began down sizing.”—
    Awwww-I wished it hadn’t been THAT.
    “You start in the garage,” she said.

  • Feb. 27, 1986 (30 years ago)
    About 25 Trimble County EMT’s and firemen assisted the Trimble County Sheriff on a manhunt in the Mt. Carmel neighborhood for what was believed to be institute escapees. Sheriff Howard Long and Deputy Denny Long soon had the three juveniles in custody. They were from Indiana. The juveniles consisted of two boys ages 14 and 16 and a 15-year-old girl. They had escaped from a Greenwood, Ind., drug rehabilitation hospital. They were from Indianapolis, Columbus, and North Vernon, Ind.

  • The relentless march of time has impacted my eyes in such a manner as to transform me into a latter day Mister Magoo.  Squinting my way through the days became frustrating when any reading was required. My reading glasses were always MIA so I spent my days in a simmering state of frustration with small print on pill bottles, cooking directions, phone numbers, etc.  Having finally acknowledged the fact that squinting was no longer working I relented and went to see the eye doctor.

  • “You can hear it in their voices sometimes and in their delivery that they are sincerely hurting for the pain that they put their own family through,” said Mr. Willett, the director of the Texas Prison Museum in Huntsville, Texas. “I saw the strangest thing one night. You got this little wall here like this, separating those two witness rooms. One night I saw the daughter of the inmate and the daughter of the victim, and they were both leaning against that wall. They were that far apart and didn’t even know it.”