Christmas toys used to be simple. They fell into a handful of categories. For the most part, boys got army stuff. Girls received dolls.

A recent online check of top-selling toys proves this is no longer the case. What kids receive on Christmas morning these days is not G.I. Joe or Barbie. Matter of fact, I don’t really understand what most of it is.

There’s a photo of me that my mom took when I was around three. I received an army ...

They call it Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or OCD. I’ve always had it, even before it had a name.

Well, maybe it had a name in fancy academic circles, but in our tiny little red brick house on Beech Street in Ashdown, my dad just called it, “afflicted.”

First, let me say that I’m not making fun of people with OCD. That’s the job of the writers on the TV show, Monk. Even if I am making fun of OCD, I get a ...

The journey the average Southern dad must take to arrive at his annual Thanksgiving meal is one filled with roadblocks and relatives. But with some effort, he can successfully navigate it.

Today, dad drives the family vehicle to a destination that mom negotiated in advance. But once upon a time, there was hope.

When dad was a kid, his parents loaded his sister and him into the backseat of the Buick and everyone went to grandma and grandpa’s house. It was an ...

A child wrote his name and address on the cover of the book. The writing is printed, not in cursive. So, he was young.

Most children know better than to write on or in a book. The child must have valued the book greatly and didn’t want anyone else to try and take it.

I know for a fact that he valued it. That child was me.

Published in 1964, the book “Ribsy” is about a dog that becomes separated from his family ...