The thing you discover about beverages when you travel beyond the Mason Dixon is that most folks outside of Southern civilization do not know how to properly make and consume beverages.

Tea, coffee, soda pops, and beer, have all been violated. What follows is a primer to help correct these issues.

Let’s begin with tea.

Many think that the national beverage of Arkansas, Texas, and Louisiana, is ranch dressing. And at some fraternity parties, it is. But, the real drink is tea. Iced ...

Bell-bottom jeans and bicycle chains are not friends. I share this bit of 1960s essential information for those who are participating in the return of bell-bottoms.

There are some nostalgic returns I support, but I’m on the banana seat fence when it comes to bell-bottoms. Sitting astride a banana seat atop a purple Murray bicycle, I rode through my Ashdown, Arkansas, childhood trying my best to keep my jeans out of the bicycle chain.

The holes and grease in and on my ...

The South used to rely on the Thrifty Nickel as our garage sale newspaper, but like many things these days, the Nickel was replaced by the Internet. Specifically, Facebook Marketplace.

Instead of waiting for the paper to hit the newsstands, we now wait for “New Listing” to appear on a Marketplace posting.

If you’re not on social media, Facebook is a social media platform where people share videos of cats playing the piano, pictures of themselves sitting in cars, and list items they ...

There’s an old English idiom that says, “To have no truck with.” It basically means that someone doesn’t go in for syrupy or emotional stuff.

I’ve never been overly sentimental. But something happened two days before Christmas that made me question my sentimentality.

Two years ago, someone dumped an expectant momma cat at our place. We live on a homestead in the country. People find our dead end road irresistible for dispensing of their animal responsibilities.

The momma kitty decided that behind our ...

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 ...