It's that time of the year again.
In the movies, in-laws are bad news.
The Senate's repeal Saturday night of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" (DADT) policy in the United States military, implemented under President Clinton in 1993 as a compromise between allowing men and women to serve openly and downright banning them from service, is much more of a milestone achievement from a symbolic standpoint rather than on-the-ground efficiency. But repeal's symbolism is striking, nonetheless. It symbolizes, simply, that our politicians are still capable of doing the work they were elected to do.
NEW YORK -- Words matter.
When President Barack Obama turned over his news conference to President Clinton like a tag-team wrestler and left the room to attend a Christmas party -- leaving Clinton to take questions from reporters about Obama's tax-cut deal -- he gave the astonished chattering classes plenty to chatter about:
To so many people here in Kershaw County he is "Vincent."
For whatever reason, while I was doing yard work during the Thanksgiving weekend, I started thinking about my favorite Christmas memories from my own school days. (This probably qualifies as ancient history for most people.) The daydreaming made the raking and mulch-spreading a lot more pleasant.
WASHINGTON -- I could write more about the tax deal, but you're probably tired of hearing about it, and, to be honest, I've been too busy playing iPad Scrabble.
Gift wrapping -- is it a man's or woman's job?
Andy Denton was recently helping his mother Miriam move some furniture when they came across a bulletin from the First Baptist Church which was distributed on Father's Day in 1945. The bulletin was arranged in newsletter form and filled with information concerning events surrounding the end of the war and updates on many of your friends and neighbors who were serving in the military.
I have a number of favorite Christmas stories which I have told you over the years. This is one of my favorites; I related it to you long ago, but it is worth repeating as Christendom's most holy day approaches.
As I watched the sad sight of Rep. Charles Rangel, a decorated Korean War veteran, stand in the well of the House to be humiliated by Speaker Nancy Pelosi with resounding censure like a misbehaving schoolboy, I was reminded of a joke I once heard about a critic's review of a singing cat: "It is not that the song was done well that mattered, but that it was done at all."
His name is David Underwood. His call sign is "Stevie." His face is the face of American freedom. His face is the face of American power.
NEW YORK -- Thanks to WikiLeaks, even Vlad the Putin can raise an eyebrow and presume to know more about founding American principles, democracy and free speech.
Given I've had my coffee in the morning and wine in the evening, I'm quite the happy-go-lucky character. It takes a powerful event, one with a lasting impact, to grip my mood. Stoic, not quite; let's just say I'm indifferent to most of the daily world, and I mean that in a positive sense. Too often, I believe, indifference is seen as a negative.
WASHINGTON -- The new "agreement" between Russia, the U.S. and our allies is exactly what the former KGB agent ordered.
Sylvia Plath said, in her autobiographical novel The Bell Jar, "There must be quite a few things a hot bath won't cure, but I don't know many of them." While I do fully agree with the literary force of genius that is Plath, if that had been my statement, I would have written it: "There must be quite a few things a hot bath or a long walk won't cure, but I don't know many of them."
Recently, I was listening to a talk radio host railing about how public schools "no longer teach values." This issue seems to be a mantra of sorts for some folks in the media, many of whom I suspect haven't been anywhere near a public school in years. As someone who is in public schools every day, I can't for the life of me figure out what this view is based on. I know it's not based on reality.
It is each of the many Easters of my life that I remember more clearly than any other holiday. Christmases blur together with only a few standing out in my memory such as the one when it snowed all day, the year I lost my voice completely, and the two times that I wasn't home – one working in Washington, D.C. and another in London.
** Thomas Ravenel, the former state treasurer who served prison time for cocaine distribution, now stars in a reality television show called "Southern Charm." Ravenel stumbles through the show in a haze of alcohol and bad judgment. He and his girlfriend, who's 30 years his junior, recently had a baby in Florida. Ravenel says he intends to revive his political career by running for the U. S. Senate from the Palmetto State. The guys in Vegas would probably lay some long odds on his chances for success.
You know what the most commonly used word in the English language seems to be?
Robert Mills was the first American born and trained architect. He called himself "Robert Mills, Architect of Public Buildings." Indeed, Mills established a new scale and standard for public buildings in Washington, D. C. when he designed the Treasury Building, the Patent Office, and the General Post Office in the 1830s and early 1840s. In other parts of the country, Mills designed buildings that were sensitive to regional values and local architectural traditions. Always his attention was on permanency and fireproofing for his public buildings.
Camden is, without a doubt, a horse town. Kershaw County is a horse county and the love for horses extends throughout this great area of South Carolina. However, it stops at my door.
Easter is a holiday of two extremes. On one side is a covert celebration of springtime with cute bunnies and pretty dresses and Easter egg hunts and chicks and flowers and lambs. On the other is a lamb being slaughtered on Passover. There is a bloodstained cross on which a Jewish man is dying who proclaimed that he was the Son of God, and that he had to be killed so that God's wrath against my sins could be carried out not against me but against him.
WASHINGTON -- One approaches the race fray with trepidation, but here we go, tippy-toe.
Page 1 of 1