This column originally appeared May 2, 2007, in the wake of the Virginia Tech mass shooting, which was carried out by a disturbed man and resulted in 33 deaths. (The writer also touched on the subject in a different column on Aug. 28, 2016.)
Two weeks ago in this space, as loyal readers may recall, I unburdened myself of a dozen or so “things this old coot finds at least a little bit annoying in today’s world.”
At the risk of flaunting my age and general crankiness for all to see, here is a list of things this old coot finds at least a little bit annoying in today’s world:
Have you read any good books lately? If so, I’d welcome any recommendations as we head into the long and lazy days of summer. Would be happy to pass them along.
Every day brings more depressing news about current trends in America. But few have hit me harder than a rash of recent stories about the crisis overtaking family dairy farms.
Several high-powered figures were inducted last week into the N.C. Media and Journalism Hall of Fame. But none of them is more deserving of that signal honor than longtime Pilot Publisher David Woronoff.
We’ve had many emotionally moving experiences at our beloved Emmanuel Episcopal Church in the past couple of decades. But last Friday’s was in a class by itself — for several reasons.
In trying to sum up the disgraceful goings-on last week in our nation’s once-proud capital, I can hardly improve on New York Times columnist Mark Landler’s comment.
This column, a version of which first appeared on this page nearly 20 years ago, recounts a cherished holiday memory from my youth in late-1950s Missouri.
Though I can’t improve on the most recent edition of The Pilot’s much-awaited annual Best of the Pines section, please allow me to add an admittedly arbitrary list of some of my own favorite things.
This cranky old newspaper guy has always tended to be a little suspicious of “good-news” stories whose only purpose is to tug at readers’ heartstrings.
As I sat glued to the TV for all of last Thursday and half of Friday, a quote from Thomas Jefferson kept reverberating through my mind: “I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just.”
When you travel to the campus of UNC Chapel Hill a couple of times a week, it’s hard not to pay an occasional visit to the empty Silent Sam pedestal.
If you’re an old (expletive deleted) like me and you really want to get depressed, try asking a few representatives of today’s young adult generation
Among other things, this column is a thank-you note to the person, whoever it was, who left a copy of Dan Rather’s book “What Unites Us” on my desk at The Pilot.
The N.C. Department of Transportation, as of a week ago today, has lowered the speed limit on Moore County’s historic Midland Road from 45 mph to 35. That’s a big deal, right?
Since I lack the energy to take on a more serious topic on these lazy summer days, here is a random (in both senses of the word) list of a few things I have found myself wondering about:
When Brenda and I and daughter Kate first landed here in Moore County a little over 20 years ago, we didn’t exactly drop down and kiss this sandy ground. But we might as well have.
Until recently, I had heard the term “free-range” used only to refer to chickens allowed to wander around in a barn lot instead of spending their lives cooped up in a cage.
Barbara Dvorozniak can’t believe I keep making such unkind annual cracks about cats. And Dave Roeder questions whether there’s any such word as “faunch.”
Sitting in the darkened balcony of Sanford’s Temple Theatre last Friday evening and watching a lively, sold-out production of the musical “Footloose” on the well-worn stage below, I found myself pondering two questions in between bursts of applause.
“Don’t you think it’s time for another of your ‘Things I Like About Southern Pines’ columns?’” a polite but anonymous feminine voice inquired in a message left on my Pilot phone the other day.
As a kid growing up in Carthage, Missouri, in the 1950s, I always wondered why my paternal grandmother, Frances Moore Bouser, kept a framed portrait of Confederate Gen. Robert E. Lee on her living room wall.
“Y’all get a lot of letters down there at The Pilot, don't you?” an acquaintance asked after stopping me on the street the other day. “How do you decide which ones to publish?”
For us peach lovers (and peach jam canners) in this part of the country, alas, the 2017 crop is destined to be — well, the pits. At least for some growers. And some varieties.
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