Farmers like to say—in fact it’s on many rusty truck bumpers—that every day is Earth Day. Despite the technical day of observation approaching on April 20, I tend to look at the first day of spring, which nearly coincided with a full moon, and St. Patrick’s Day, as the day when the Earth ought to be celebrated. So, in its honor, I managed to start planting some of the 500 white pine seedlings I ordered.

This spring, I heard that some Alabama folks would like to extend the Appalachian Trail through the mountains that lead its Georgia endpoint naturally into their state.

When tragedy strikes, it’s time to play “The Blame Game.”
No doubt you’ve watched an episode or two on the nightly news or read about the popular real-life competition in your local newspaper.

I’m not sure who won. My oldest would tell you it was him, sure enough.

In an uncertain changing world, death and taxes are supposedly the only two sure things. Even with rebates scheduled to arrive in the mail by early May, many of us still grumble about taxes and those complicated federal and state income tax forms. A definite value added benefit of our state tax payments is the Virginia Department of Health.

The Southwest Virginia Higher Education Center (HEC) is having its 10th anniversary celebration on March 31, and I was pleased to be invited.  The HEC hosts on-site and televised classes from numerous Virginia universities, and I am the guy who, back in 1998, coined its mantra, “Improving your life by degrees”. 

Sometimes I watch the news, or maybe it is not just news but something sensational.  Lately I have seen how easy it is for a governor to fall from grace or a young woman to rise from obscurity to fame because of what two foolish people did wrong.

Today is my birthday.  I’m 23 years old.  While I don’t get as excited about birthdays as I use to, I still look forward to them.  However, I realize that some people don’t like to acknowledge their birthday, as it is a reminder that they are a year older, but that seems rather silly to me.  I can’t understand all these people I encounter who regard their birthday as “just another day,” some of whom aren’t that much older than me.  I can feel blasé about life the other 364 days of the year without having to ruin my birthday being consumed by an inevitable fact, over which I have no control.  While I may not be thrilled about aging, I know that refusing to celebrate will not stop me from getting older.  Having that attitude would only cause me to feel even worse.

Old Blue Rosenbloom sat on a hay bale with his dime-store glasses resting on his ski-slope nose.  Because he moved his lips, everybody at the barn assumed that he was reading the newspaper he held.

If I could have planned the resurrection, I would have done it differently. Mind you, I would not want to have been in charge of the actual resurrection itself. Getting me up in the morning is often more than I can do. I just would like to have had a chance at the logistics, the details.