Just a few stray thoughts based on some unrelated items that appeared in this past Sunday’s excellent edition of The Pilot.

Words fail me as I try to come to grips with what happened a week ago today in Washington. Many of the first adjectives that come to mind seem to begin with “D”: Deadly. Demented. Disgusting. Disgraceful. Disastrous.

Carol A. Golly now lives here in Southern Pines. But when she read my Dec. 16 column, headlined “Reindeer, Round Virgins, and God’s First Name,” it reminded her of something that happened when she lived in Florida.

This is adapted from a column that appeared in The Pilot in December of 1999. 
I was half-grown before I learned that reindeer have standard, regulation hooves. I had pictured them with soft little cat feet.

A couple of weeks ago, I set out to write one of my gushy annual “things to be thankful for” columns. But I never got around to doing it.

Of all the changes we can expect when the new presidential administration takes over in January, I liked the one recently explored by CNN commentator Jeanne Moos.

So. How the heck do you sit down and write about a presidential election that hasn’t happened yet — when you know your column won’t appear in print until the day after?

After teaching journalism classes at UNC for more than a decade, I now find myself doing them from home instead. And do I ever have mixed feelings about that.

There is still so much to love about Southern Pines, despite — or maybe even because of — these dismal days through which we now find ourselves struggling.

Remember when, on the way to the beach (where I happen to be while writing this), you could stop at a McDonald’s and actually sit down and eat your Big Mac inside?

If there’s anything that bugs my friend Bob Howell, it’s hearing people say that a question “centers around” something.

It’s been nearly a year since the last one appeared, Dear Reader, so perhaps you will permit me to indulge in another random list of things I find myself wondering about.

Mary Lou Herre, who now lives in Pinehurst, grew up in a small town in a coal-mining area of western Pennsylvania. Her family’s milk came “right from the cow” at a nearby farm.

Did you grow up riding in cars with no seat belts? Did your mother smoke and/or drink while carrying you?

I’ve lived and newspapered in four North Carolina towns in the past 40-odd years. And this is the only one that’s not now caught up in controversy over a Confederate monument.

I guess I’m what you would call a cradle Episcopalian, since my mom used to regularly drag brother Jon and me to Grace Episcopal Church back in Carthage, Mo.

Permit me to offer one more column about the benefit of burying one’s nose in a good book as a way of finding at least a few hours’ respite from this COVID captivity.

If you thought I liked David McCullough’s writings, you should sample the several responses I got to my April 29 column, headlined, “Need Some Distraction? — Try a McCullough Book.”

Weary of your COVID captivity? Need something to transport you into another time and place for a few hours? Then I’d like to recommend a book by David McCullough.

A week ago today, as I tore the March page off my big desktop calendar at home and glanced over everything written on it a month earlier, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Just when I was wondering how to start off this column, I turned on the TV. And there it was, across the bottom of the CNN screen:

So. Are we in the midst of experiencing “the decline of our American civilization,” as I asked — or perhaps suggested — a couple of weeks ago in this space?

Spoiler alert: This is not going to be a happy column. It might even qualify as a bummer. If you need something to cheer you up, you might want to move on to another page.

If you’re looking for an interesting read, a book with the boring title “The County of Moore, 1847-1947” might not rank high on your list.

A lot of cool things have happened to the Sunrise Theater since it was rescued from closing a couple of decades ago. (Can it really be that long?)

This column, which first appeared at Christmastime 2010, is a condensation of a longer version that ran 10 years before that.

Time for my annual Thanksgiving column — or “colyum,” as some of my older newspaper colleagues used to pronounce it — about things I’m especially grateful for.

When a few of us guys from the bass section gathered at Emmanuel Episcopal last Thursday for a special rehearsal session with Choirmaster Homer Ferguson, my voice may have sounded even shakier than usual.

Just another random list of things great and small, ranging from serious to trivial, that I sometimes find myself wondering about:

Editor’s note: This column originally appeared in The Pilot in slightly different form in the year 2000.

Consider this to be not so much a rather short column as perhaps the longest correction I’ve ever written.

Of all the turning-point years our world has experienced in the past century or so, one stands out above all others: 1946.

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:

Harriet Sloan says she found “Mark Twain: A Life,” by Ron Powers, to be just “an over-the-top read.”

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.

Tell me more about this “service economy” we live in now. I’m still having trouble getting used to it.

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.

Does anyone out there still believe that we Americans get to elect our presidents?

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.

We all have things we wonder about. Here is another admittedly arbitrary and disjointed list of some of my lingering questions:

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.

Once again, here is my annual list of things I hope — but don’t necessarily expect — to see in the coming year:

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.

When it comes to wintry weather, much of Moore County and the Sandhills pretty much dodged a bullet this time around, didn’t we?

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.

Just a few things (some serious, some silly) for which I’m thankful at this season:

So Sears is going down the tubes. Who cares?