AOn almost every Sunday at 101 South Church Street., there was a family meal being served. This was the home of Ralph and Emma Lambert. Theirs was the classic Southern marriage, one that would endure over sixty-five years here on Earth. Hard-working and living within their means, they had raised a large family in such a small house. Work was Monday through Friday or Saturday, Church was every Sunday morning. Continue reading Dinner Time
I dialed 911 one afternoon because I thought that I was having a heart attack. I had been wide-awake for two nights with a pounding heartbeat, but without the shooting left arm pain, the anxiety of the possible outcome doubling the tightness of shoulder muscles and the paces across the living room floor. Continue reading You’re Not Right
There was a portable speed limit sign on Spring Street today. I registered an average score of 19 during my three trips through the 25 MPH zone because I now drive like an old lady in my old lady Buick. But it got me to thinking. Continue reading Small Town Speed Trap Ahead
Today’s the third anniversary of my best friend’s death. And I’m still pissed at the world. So, I thought that I’d write something funny. Continue reading My Ass
If you don’t live in the Washington, D.C./Baltimore area, you may have missed the Oh-So slanderous headlines from the past three weeks.
Emergency vote in Ocean City, Maryland: You can’t go topless here.
Continue reading Boobies-Exposing the Truth
This video is of Main Street in Woodstock, Virginia filmed by Sam Smith sometime during the late 1940’s. Read my short gibberish and then watch a really cool video. Continue reading Main Street of Woodstock, Virginia in the Late 1940’s (Video)
I left out one little tale from yesterday’s story (Lineman for the County). It’s all fun and games when a nineteen-year-old is risking his life climbing a telephone pole just to make some beer money for college. But what happens when he’s a part of a telephone monopoly’s conspiracy to ruin a small business owner’s property?
Continue reading An Amendment to Yesterday’s Story