It’s time the lunchroom ladies got their due.

At Burke Street Elementary in Ashdown, Arkansas, (and later at Ashdown High School) the kids in my grade were respectful of all adults. But just like at home, we sometimes complained about the food. Especially the food in the lunchroom.

Now, part of that had to do with the fact that my mom is a fabulous cook. She could cook a potato 50 different ways from Sunday. It made me a connoisseur of the ...

The late comedian Norm McDonald once joked about how just a century and a half ago, our great grandfather was lucky if he had one photo of himself.

With the advent of cell phones, Norm pointed out that a century and a half from now, people would proudly offer to show off a million photos of their great grandfather.

It’s funny because it’s true.

Those who didn’t grow up with an actual camera, film, and scrapbooks full of photos really have missed out ...

The ownership we feel for places we have lived seems absolute. Any house we’ve called home was ours. No one else’s. Even if several others lived in it before or after we did.

Such was the case of the house on Beech Street where my family lived in the 60s and early 70s in Ashdown, Arkansas.

I’ve written of that house more than once in this space. Each time I did, it never crossed my mind that a reader would reach out ...