The Dallas Cowboys football team is about as close to a pro sports team as Arkansas gets. We Arkansans relate to them because their current owner, Jerry Jones, and their former coach, Jimmy Johnson, both harken from Arkansas. And their alma mater, the U of A, is a feeder school for the team’s new recruits.
At the end of a long Mother’s Day, Grady said to me, “Sorry you had to work so hard.” My reply was honest and simple: “I enjoyed it.”
I’m old enough to remember life before birth control, when abortions were illegal, and when women died from breast cancer. We have come a long way in women’s healthcare and lifestyle choices, since then.
This summer will be my 50-year high school reunion. Like all reunions, it snuck up and surprised me. But it didn’t surprise me as much as the phone call I got, later.
After traveling, I’m burned out on eating out and, yet, bored with my own home cooking. I’d love a plain-old BLT, but tomatoes aren’t in season. Currently, very little is in season. It is late for apples and oranges and too early for summer produce, but strawberries are close to being harvested in Arkansas.
My mother always said, no matter how old her children got, she wanted to see where they lived. That it made her rest better. And now, that is the way I feel, too.
From the looks of things in our Miami sewing department, cruise ships are back in business.
Not to be part of the sheeple, but if everybody else is, I guess I, too, must weigh in on the Smith/Rock altercation at the Oscars.
Whether you’re running a small company in America, starting a war in Ukraine, or defending your property, the requirements for success are the same.
To project the power needed to attract talent, motivate people, and promote good-will, you need three things: economic strength, technology sophistication, and a compelling story.
March marks the two-year anniversary of the Covid pandemic. I’m torn between writing about the past two years of Covid’s grief, relief and yes, even joy, or about the rise of cults during our societal turmoil. Maybe they go together.
In preparing for my UIYB interview with Cole Rodgers, I read his book, School of Man. In this self-help book, Cole talks about man’s human frailties, and I am reminded of my own. He speaks of man’s struggles with communication and of their male falsehoods and self-imposed masks. Though it may be easier for women to admit their weaknesses, I am not sure that makes dealing with them any easier. To be human is to suffer on some level. Luckily, with age comes the recognizable warning signs and learned wisdom to deal with the devil speak.
It is hard to believe, in this day and age, that small men with big egos are still willing and able to wage war on innocent women and children. If you could get through his carefully narrated propaganda campaign, you might argue he is doing this for his country, if his countrymen weren’t protesting in the streets.
At the funeral for a friend’s father, I thought about the deceased. How he had affected my life. How, on…
The idea of a dancing fundraiser came from a young party planner named John. That’s all I remember about him, other than that he had short, blond hair. In 2009, he had followed a girl to Little Rock, started his party planning business, got divorced (or never married), and he left town.
In my mind, the term “dust bowl” no longer creates images of the Oklahoma drought of the 1930’s, described by John Steinbeck in the book Grapes of Wrath. Now, it describes my current work week.
After 40+ years in business I had my first ever mandatory evacuation by the Little Rock Fire Department.
It was late morning on Tuesday when everyone in our conference room started smelling gas. Before long, we were all standing in the hall wondering, “Where is that coming from?” and claiming it’s worse in our room than anyone else’s.
How do we come back? Or even, do we come back? And, if we do, when and how do we come back?
After a two-year hiatus that started with the first Covid outbreak, these are the questions that the Friends of Dreamland (FOD) had to ask themselves. And the answers are, respectively: Yes, Yes, February 12th, and with a safe fundraiser called Dancing Into Dreamland (DID).
Have you heard the phrase “sitting is the new smoking?” I only recently heard it and, when I did, it rang true.
My son, who posts my blogs to the web, often criticizes my rambling way of writing. I don’t care because it is authentic and I remind him of all the criticism Hemmingway got for his writing style, while he was alive. But, in this blog, I may have to agree a little. But hang on; the self-help tip is worth the read. Here we go:
From every UIYB guest interview, I learn something. This past week’s show was no exception and what I learned I put to good use.
Driving to work one crisp morning, I saw a home whose front yard had been rolled. Though I know, from experience, it is a mess to clean up, I still found it endearing. The graceful flowing of the toilet paper blowing in the wind caused me to circle the block and stop to watch it.
After a year of good citizenship, social distancing, and following the vaccine protocol of the CDC, we McCoy’s decided it…
We often hear people lament about “the good old days.” But I remember those days. There was Polio, a high…
I know it is late for a Christmas gift idea, but I was late in finding out about this one.
Deciding to shop local for some last-minute gifts, I went into Dandelion Home and Garden a newly opened, little gift and plant store in the Hillcrest neighborhood of Little Rock, Arkansas.
Arkansas doesn’t have a pro team, but it feels like we do. The University of Arkansas Razorbacks are our state’s passion. In sports bars and restaurants, alike, fans show support by unabashedly “calling the Hogs” and then high fiving each other in solidarity.