People in the South check on each other.

I’m not sure if this happens elsewhere, but it’s almost innate for a person raised around where I was to check on folks.

In Ashdown, Arkansas, people left their keys in their cars, so they obviously didn’t lock their houses. So if someone was checking on you, they would crack open your front door and yell, “Woo Hoo,” and wait until you yelled, “I’m here, c’mon in,” before entering.

When I say, “checking on” someone, ...

Malls were the beginning of the end. Although, in the 1970s when Texarkana welcomed the opening of its mall, those of us who lived in the area were all too busy being excited about having a mall to see that by shopping there we were hurting our neighbors.

“What could be better?” we thought. All of the stores you could want under one air-conditioned roof, vendors selling trinkets, overpriced jewelry, and a food court with pretzels the size of manhole covers.

Maybe ...

Pet Milk was a kitchen staple in most Southern homes in mid-20th Century America. It had as many uses as a coffee can full of bacon drippings.

Thankfully, the two weren’t used interchangeably.

Opening our Frigidaire, you’d see that the top shelf of our refrigerator always included a gallon of Borden’s Milk, a stick of Parkay under a see through glass butter dish, and a can of Pet Milk.

Pet Milk (a brand name for evaporated milk) was the Swiss Army knife of ...

I miss the restaurants of my youth.

In Ashdown, Arkansas, the restaurant everyone gravitated toward was Miss Mac’s. Its official name was, Mac’s Cafe.

It started as a small truck stop off of Highway 71 in Ogden, Arkansas, which is about halfway between Texarkana and Ashdown. I remember going there when I was small, but the restaurant moved to the same side of the highway in Ashdown sometime in the 1960s.

Mac’s was a place where every level of society came to devour ...

I used to pay little attention to the world’s little idiosyncrasies, but now they seem ever present. And it’s more than slightly annoying.

I can’t be the only one.

When I was getting change back from the fast food drive-thru recently, it all became clear. The world is against me.

The lady was nice enough, but she handed me back my bills, coins, and receipt in one big wad. Then she looked at me while I sorted it out. I put the money ...

I don’t recognize toys anymore. Our grandkids are coming from out of state to visit and I can’t find anything to get them as a surprise.

Why? I don’t know what anything is or does.

Toys should teach you how to prepare for life and be fun.

Bakugan – Japanese Power, was one of the first things that showed up under a search for popular toys. The website says:

“The Great Collision. The event that once captivated the world’s attention now seems like a ...

We had a clothesline, but no washer or dryer. So the Laundromat was a weekly destination.

Today, most folks would find the absence of a laundry room in the home as foreign as no air conditioning or Wi-Fi. Fifty years ago, most folks in Ashdown, Arkansas, didn’t have the first two, and the only person who had the latter was Captain Kirk.

When I was a kid, a washing machine was a luxury. A dryer was something rich people had. But, we ...

Small town life is slower. I’m reminded of what I traded when I left Ashdown for big city life. Here’s a message I received this morning:

“We had a wren make a nest in our mail box. She only has one leg, so we put a box in a chair on the front porch for the mailman.”

Some might find humor in this. I find love.

There’s a reason The Andy Griffith Show still draws viewers; sometimes more than local newscasts.

Most of us ...

When the weather was cool and the sky was clear, our mother led us to the backyard and put out blankets.

My sister and I called them, “Star Nights.” And they were special.

In the mid 1960s there were no video games, social media, or 24-hour children’s TV channels. Families had each other. And our mother always made sure that family time was special.

My dad worked hard. He left early and worked all day. He’d pull his 1952 Chevrolet pickup into the ...

My grandmother made the best oatmeal. It was so good, it even tasted good cold.

She made it each morning for my grandfather who always left some for any of his grandchildren who wanted it.

I always did.

There were no microwaves, so oatmeal was made on the stove. And the remaining porridge sat in the pot waiting for me to eat it.

And eat it I did.

My mom stayed home until my younger sister started school. So when I was in third grade ...