(Note: In a previous column, I requested recipes for homemade biscuits. Boy, did I get them. Thank you to everyone who shared their recipes. Some dated back over 100 years to great grandmothers, while others came from the packaging of flour bags. At the end of today’s column, I’ve included one that was particularly fascinating and tasty. ~ John)

(Today’s column on paper towels comes with a nod to Andy Rooney)

Do you ever wonder why they couldn’t just leave paper towels ...

My father would load my sister and me into his ‘52 Chevy truck, and he’d steer down the gravel road leading to the homestead where my mom was raised.

The radio played Loretta Lynn and Faron Young as the wind whipped through the cab. Dad would shift the three-on-the-tree and the 6-cylinder hummed as we headed to our destination.

We were on our way to pick blackberries.

My mother’s parents raised their six children on a homestead in the unincorporated county community of Fomby, Arkansas.

It’s ...

Please forgive me, for I have become biscuit backslidden.

I’ve become lazy.

If my grandmothers and great grandmothers were still here, they’d be ashamed. They’d send me out of the kitchen to the back yard to fetch a switch.

My entire family heritage was on the line, and I’ve failed.

I have committed the ultimate Southern sin.

I’m eating canned biscuits.

Not only am I eating canned biscuits, I’m eating them as if it’s OK to be eating canned biscuits. As if it’s normal. As if ...

Nixon was in the White House and Scooby Doo was on our school lunch boxes. It was 1969. For a kid, life was good.

Those of us in Mrs. Pauley’s second-grade class at Burke Street Elementary were fairly oblivious to the tumultuous time our country was experiencing, but we were completely aware of what was on Saturday morning television. And it was great.

But, a recent scan of the Saturday morning TV dial revealed a glaring omission. Cartoons.

I mean, real cartoons. Like ...

One of neatest feelings of youth was saving up enough money to buy that next record you wanted.

Yes, I said record. Vinyl. It was a circular disc, which required a record player (or turntable – depending on how fancy you wanted to sound) to be able to hear your purchase.

If you had a dollar, you could purchase the latest hit 45-rpm single for .79¢ plus tax. If you had $4.99, you could buy the latest album by your favorite artist.

Some ...

My mom used to make our clothes. This was true for most families we knew.

It was the mid-60s, and the majority of moms stayed home. Only the dad worked. There was one income, so there weren’t a lot of extras. We had one car. We bought little and grew much of our food. Store-bought items weren’t the norm.

People who had mostly store-bought items were considered rich.

My mom had a Singer machine and Simplicity and McCall’s sewing patterns stacked high. She ...

res•o•lu•tion rĕz″ə-loo͞′shən►

1. The state or quality of being resolute; firm determination.
2. A firm decision to do something.

The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition.

In my previous column, I mentioned my resolution to help others during the New Year. Some readers felt that resolutions were a waste of time, while others felt resolutions are admirable, but not sustainable.

As a wise person once told me, “If you think you can’t, you’re right.”

The first New Year’s resolution I can remember making was trying to ...

Photo credit: eBay. https://www.ebay.com/itm/1973-The-Waltons-Vintage-Lunch-Pail-No-Thermos/323655535070?hash=item4b5b5f89de:g:TxIAAOSwuLZY2vAY

Photo: Classic TV shows seemed so real to some viewers, they believed their favorite TV families were real. Pictured is a vintage Waltons lunchbox for sale on eBay.

When trying to decide on a 2021 resolution on how to improve myself, a thought that had popped into my head recently came back to the forefront.

I was almost grown before it occurred to me that not everyone was born into a good, loving family. I assumed all kids had ...

Each Christmas Eve In the 1960’s, my sister and I would take a ride in my grandmother’s sled.

Like most grandmothers back then, her sled was a Ford Country Squire station wagon that was about the same length as an aircraft carrier and came complete with fake wood paneling on the sides.

My dad wasn’t the kind of guy who wanted to wait until Christmas morning for Santa to visit, so my sister and I would hop in the station wagon with ...

The ways of the South are not the ways of the rest of the country. I’ve never been to New York City, but from what I hear, the folks there say exactly what they think.

And it isn’t always sugarcoated.

No one in the entire world can sugarcoat a request, direct order, suggestion, or verbal body slam, better than a Southern wife.

You get a lot of presents at your wedding reception when you get hitched. We received nice items for the kitchen ...