Just My Type

For those who know me, it’s no secret that I enjoy perusing the classifieds for yard or estate sales. But, a recent online visit to the local Craigslist site led to the purchase of a manual typewriter. A 1958 Remington Quiet-Riter, to be exact.

This column was written on it.

Some might consider an almost-60-year-old typewriter a nonsensical purchase, considering that desktops, laptops and iPads (the latter typically being my chosen device for writing) are much easier to navigate and correct mistakes.

All ...

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The Summer of ’76

There was almost no breeze. Record temperatures were being shattered in England, and the Southern US was also pretty darn hot.

But three teenage kids in Arkansas decided that it would be a great idea to live in my backyard for most of the summer of 1976.

My cousin Randy was up from Alvin, Texas. I honestly can’t remember why he stayed with us for so many weeks, but I do remember that my mom quickly reached the end of her rope ...

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Yes, You Can Go Home Again

They say that you can’t go home again. Last weekend, I did.

I vividly remember the night of my high school graduation. It was very hot and very wet.

Because of heavy rains, we were the first class, in no one could remember how long, to graduate inside the gymnasium instead of on the football field.

It was a Friday night in May, and polyester was still surviving from the 1970s in the form of our shiny purple caps and gowns.

As we all ...

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In The Tree Tops

Before video games and 300 TV channels, kids played outside. And climbed trees. A lot of trees.

In the 1960s, tree climbing was a competitive sport in Ashdown, Arkansas. Tree climbing never made it to the Olympics, but if synchronized swimming, figure skating and handball are there, tree climbing deserves a spot. Had tree climbing made it to the games, my friends and I likely could have taken at least a bronze or silver for ...

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We Had A Lot Of Class

“J-O-H-N-N-Y,” I said.

Mrs. Walker looked across the desk at me and smiled. She thanked me for telling her how to spell my name. I liked Mrs. Walker from the start. She was nice to me.

It was 1968. Johnson was about to leave the White House and Nixon was soon to be elected. It was a tumultuous year for the country, and it was my first year of school.

This particular day was registration day. I said I liked Mrs. Walker, and ...

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