I now understand why my grandparents were resistant to change. When what you’ve always known is taken away, and the familiar is replaced.

My grandparents saw many things become common. The telephone, automobiles, airplanes, radio and television. I’m sure the things they witnessed seemed like magic. But what’s whizzing by now seems almost unbelievable.

On July 20, 1969, my parents let me stay up to watch the first man walk on the moon. I remember asking my dad if it was real. ...

The transition to digital is understandable in some areas. Watching old movies is easier online. But when it comes to reading, I still prefer a hard copy. A book.

Especially when cooking.

One of the most heartbreaking things to see is someone selling their mom’s or grandmother’s cookbooks. But I see them all the time. And I buy many of them. Especially the ones that still have note cards and slivers of paper wedged strategically between pages where someone’s preferred recipe lived.

“Bill’s ...

For much of the twentieth century, the Sears Roebuck catalog held a special place in American homes. It was never just a book of merchandise. It was a window into a wider world for families who lived in small towns and rural places where stores carried little beyond the basics.

In Ashdown, Arkansas, the catalog shaped Christmas wishes, household plans, and childhood arguments over who got to see it first when it arrived.

Sears was not the only catalog. Montgomery Ward, JC ...

Red Rover. Sandlot baseball. Hide-and-seek. Cowboys and Indians.

The latter today is likely lacking political correctness, but it shares with the others a commonality. All were games of yesterday’s youth.

And they were outside games of that generation.

In reading a recent biography of Teddy Roosevelt, the description of his battle with asthma reminded me of what kids did for most of the early history of our country. We went outside and played.

Teddy (I hope he wouldn’t mind me calling him that) endured ...

Thanksgiving, at its heart, was created for one purpose. To thank God for His blessings.

The Pilgrims knew hardship well. They had survived disease, starvation, harsh winters, and the loss of loved ones. When the harvest finally came in, they stopped long enough to give thanks to God for His mercy and His provision.

That spirit followed generations of Americans all the way to small towns like Ashdown, Arkansas, where I was born and raised. In the 60s and 70s, families there ...

My sister and I always looked for the caboose. That unmistakable red car at the rear of the train that held the men who always waved to us. We were drawn to the caboose because it seemed like the ultimate playhouse.

The train itself looked almost desolate. It headed down the tracks on its way to a destination unknown to us. But then the caboose appeared. The man in the window and the man in the raised lookout on top. What ...

There’s a scene in The Grapes of Wrath when two children ask for candy in a store and it costs more than the grandfather has. The candy canes were a nickel apiece, but the clerk sells them two-for-a-penny. The penny was a symbol of kindness. During the life of our country, pennies have symbolized a lot of things.

The U.S. Mint is ceasing production of the penny. It now costs more than one cent to make it. The coins are mostly ...

I firmly believe GPS was invented to save marriages. Before that, wives had to drive from the passenger seat.

I grew up in Ashdown, Arkansas, long before Siri started giving directions. Back then, the only voice you heard was the wife saying, “You missed the turn again,” followed by a silence thick enough you could drown.

Some men had a natural talent for getting lost. It’s part of their charm. At least, that’s what they told themselves. They could rebuild a carburetor, ...

I was driving to buy the morning paper when I noticed movement ahead. As I drew closer, I realized it was a dog. An English Setter, wandering aimlessly in the middle of the intersection. Cars swerved, horns blared, and her eyes were wide and lost.

I stopped my vehicle at the red light, opened the passenger door, and called, “Come on, girl.” She climbed right in. She was panting and flustered, but her coat was clean and freshly brushed. This ...

“Doodlebug, doodlebug, come out of your house. Your house is on fire and your wife has gone South.”

I have no idea who first taught my sister and me that saying, but I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know it.

We were shown how to take a small twig or broom straw and stir the doodlebug house until the sand walls caved in. That caused the bug to kick sand out from the bottom, little legs churning like mad. Of ...