WASHINGTON -- This past week's news cycle has produced two narratives:
At the U.S. Open last year, a 22-year-old Irish kid named Rory McIlroy swooped onto the Congressional Country Club and crushed the competition, besting second-place finisher Jason Day by a whopping eight strokes.
For half my life, I've wondered why in the world we still elect sheriffs in this country. I began wondering about that while working for a radio station 25 years ago in Dahlonega, Ga. Dahlonega sits in the -- no offense to anyone from there -- unfortunately named Lumpkin County.
So what if Elizabeth Warren claims to be part Native American Indian? She's entitled, according to historical documents. Besides, Americans never have been all that clear or consistent about what distinguishes one race from another.
WASHINGTON -- The squabbling between political campaigns and the harrumphing of pundits were put in proper perspective at, of all places, the White House Correspondents' Association (WHCA) dinner -- the annual Prom on the Potomac where 2,000 or so media members and movie stars gather to honor the president and admire one another.
What could be more American than encouraging a robust debate on one of the most controversial issues of the day? The answer -- for some on the left, anyway -- is: lie about your opponents and make a pathetic effort to discredit them.
"In those days, the people of any means moved from Camden to Kirkwood in early summer and remained to a few heavy frosts," wrote Mrs. Alfred Doby reminisce in 1906.
Republicans are delighted to hear they scored better than Democrats and independents in a new survey of political knowledge. Fine. I'm sure Democrats would be just as boastful if their side scored better. Everybody in politics wants to believe that their side is brilliant and the others are a bunch of nitwits.
Every now and then, we clear out the cobwebs of our lives. My mother's been going through this for a while now and, as she did, came across this 25-year-old letter from me. It appears typed, since it includes hand-written edits in my handwriting. I thought it would be fun to share, since it not only offers me a bit of self-reflection, but a peek at life back in the '80s.
President Obama "slow jams the news?" Is this a nakedly bold pitch for the youth vote or what?
I can hardly say this was a bolt from the blue. I mean I've always known this day would come. I've had a generous 17 years to prepare for this crossroad in my life. This should be an easy transition for all involved, right? Ok, maybe not exactly. Wow. Graduation announcements? Cap and gown? Excuse the cliché, but where has the time gone? The pace in which time flies by is alarming. And when I pause and reflect too intensely on the image of my oldest son graduating high school, it almost feels hard to breath. It's ...
The students over at the University of South Carolina are raising cain because they don't like the graduation speaker who's been chosen to deliver the commencement address later this month.
So, we have one candidate who eats dogs and another who straps them to the roof of his car like a freshly cut Christmas tree.
WASHINGTON -- It was fun. It was odd. It was just a little bit ... unseemly.
As the campaign year heats up, the politics of umbrage already is in full swing. But some offenses are worth getting outraged about more than others.
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.
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