An old Easter week tradition has survived the centuries, in one form or another, which calls to me more than the music, the lilies and dyed eggs. It is the tradition of pilgrimage—whether for days or a few hours, whether down the block or along roads to a holy shrine, up Mount Brandon or down the New River Trail.

Front-row seats are prized and usually allotted according to higher prices at concerts and sporting events. Yet there’s one front row seat we dread and hope to never fill.

Five years ago, March 20, 2003, we woke up to the news that the United States had invaded Iraq.  It wasn’t exactly a surprise.  Congress had, months before, given President George Bush permission to do what he wanted.

I thought I was brilliant when I proposed that the Washington County Public Library move into the old hospital building once Johnston Memorial builds its new hospital.  It turns out that, in a public survey initiated by Councilwoman Cathy Lowe, a number of other people suggested the same thing.  This is just one more example of people stealing my ideas before I have them.  I really hate it when people do that. 

Editor’s Note: If you are a member of PETA, you will find numerous offenses in the following. Do us both a favor and refuse, with the usual righteous indignation, of course, to read one word more. If you don’t refuse and find those aforementioned numerous offenses, please DO NOT fill my e-mail box with messages explaining the errors of my ways. It will only make me dislike you on a very personal level as I can assure you that no amount of data, persuasive language or haranguing could ever make me see the many errors of my ways. Also, if you are married to me, you might want to stop reading now and wait for a column that doesn’t include you as a main character.

I do not like Esther Viti. She is not a bad person. In fact, she is generous. That is part of why I dislike Esther. She is, to twist Mark Twain’s expression, “A good woman in the worst kind of way.”

A loud crash was the noise I would have expected to hear, but only some cracking and popping and large thump interrupted my preparations for a lunchtime date with my husband last Saturday. However, the outside noise did compete with Jimmy Buffet’s songs emanating from the stereo. The prospects of Margaritaville, or at least a Cheeseburger in Paradise, had motivated my morning housework. Cranking the music also kept the roar of winter winds, a sound that wears on my soul, from breaking my weekend mood. My intentional blissful ignorance of the winds did nothing, however, to stop their destruction.

Kudos to Gov. Tim Kaine and the General Assembly for passing and signing legislation requiring the General Assembly to give consent to any tolls that would be placed on the Interstate 81 corridor.
According to a press release from the governor’s office, every lawmaker along the I-81 corridor voted in favor of the bill sponsored by Delegate Todd Gilbert and Sens. Mark Obenshain and John Edwards.
The legislation comes as the Virginia Department of Transportation is looking to widen the road to the tune of $11 billion. The plan to expand the highway’s capacity, funded by tolls on commuters and tractor-trailer rigs, has been rightly criticized for the past six years.

It was a July evening in 1991.  I was enjoying a summer home from school just before beginning the first grade.  I was also having fun playing with my baby sister who had just been born six months prior.  On this particular evening, I was a very excited 6-year-old because I was headed to the Millwald Theater to see the re-release of the Walt Disney’s 17th animated feature “One Hundred and One Dalmatians,” 30 years after its original theatrical debut.  Granny Rose was our houseguest during this time, and I was thrilled that she was going to be accompanying me to the movie.  Mom was also thrilled because that meant that she would be able to see “Dying Young” starring Julia Roberts in the upstairs theater.  While Mom may have preferred the more mature film choice, I still believe that Granny Rose and I had way more fun watching the Disney film. 

You can go straight to Ireland and kiss the Blarney Stone.
In New York, an Irish pub owner has banned the singing of “Danny Boy” during March.  His proclamation shocked the wannabe Irish at the barn.  They couldn’t believe an Irishman would object to the singing of “Danny Boy” at a bar where they sold Irish beer.