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 ...

The days after Thanksgiving. When married men go to the ER for a new cast from falling off the roof while installing the Christmas decorations their wives insist on, and single men sit around in their underwear watching sports and consuming adult beverages.

Holiday decorations are a lot like lawns. For some reason, wives are in charge of both.

If men had our way, a lawn would have grass. No shrubs, bushes, or any plant that can sever your arm if you ...

For someone named Norm, he was anything but.

Norman Rockwell was my favorite artist even before I had any idea who he was. From a young age, I recognized his work as easily as I knew a sparrow when I saw one.

The phrase, “An American Treasure” has been used to the point of dilution, but if the phrase was ever applicable, it was absolutely the right label for Norman Rockwell.

He was and still is, an American treasure.

If you aren’t familiar with ...

When we moved into our house several years ago, it was during the month of June. A scruffy tree with small green leaves was blocking our view of the pond. I said I was going to cut it down.

Glad I got busy and didn’t. When it bloomed, it turned out to be the prettiest, largest, and oldest dogwood either of us has ever seen.

A tree is a lot like life. It starts out small. Once a root system is established, ...

I’m fairly certain my dreams have a drug dealer.

What is it with dreams? Sleep is supposed to be an 8-hour window (mine’s never that long) when we rest, regenerate, and arise feeling as refreshed as the person in the Folger’s commercial who throws back the covers and stretches with a smile before jumping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to commence guzzling a gallon of java.

But it’s impossible for me to feel that good or do morning gymnastics ...

(photo credit: Smithsonian Institution www.postalmuseum.si.edu)

I’m old enough to remember needing to dial only four numbers to call someone. And when Zip Codes weren’t necessary.

Today, everyone requires numbers for everything we do.

Everything.

I’m actually old enough to remember not having a phone at all. I think I was in third grade when dad finally agreed to get one. Once it was installed, it seemed to be something we couldn’t live without.

But before it was put in, we seemed to do just fine. ...

If you grew up in the south, you could tell what your momma was about to make based on the bowl or casserole dish she had sitting on the kitchen counter.

You knew it was meatloaf if it was the long and tall metal pan. If it was a deep cast iron skillet, it was either going to be fried chicken or chicken potpie.

But, if we saw the big, swirly, green glass bowl, we knew were going to have banana pudding. ...

They call them seasons. I think that’s because each adds a specific type of sensory spice to that quarter of the year.

Summer should actually be called, “Simmer.” Winter should be called, “Chiller.” Spring is appropriately named since nature goes from dormant to an awakening that springs flowers into the air and pollen into our nostrils.

All things considered, fall is my favorite. Fall doesn’t seem to want anything from us. It just asks the waiter for the check and heads back ...

Photo Credit: columbophile.files.wordpress.com

Columbo is the best TV detective America has ever had.

That, of course, is my opinion, but I’m willing to speak on behalf of everyone else because I believe that I’m correct.

The Brits have Agatha Christie’s Poirot, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.

But I argue that America’s Columbo is far superior.

Peter Falk, of whom I do a pretty spot on impersonation if I do say so myself, (which you can hear if you listen to my podcast version ...