It seems to me that the political parties ought to get presidential and vice presidential candidates to complete a questionnaire before the party nominates them.  That way, the party would know in advance about any unseemly stuff that the press might turn up when it investigates the candidates.

Congressman Rick Boucher sounds convinced that Southwest Virginia could be roaring the same tune as the Celtic Tiger in the not-too-distant future.
Unfortunately, there’s a world between could be and will be. 

“Don’t worry about it,” a nice woman says to me.  “It happens to all of us.”

I look over at her and smile, wondering what she means.  Death?  Taxes?  No, I realize, she thinks I’ve misplaced my car.  After all, I am wandering around an enormous parking lot on a Sunday afternoon. 

During the early part of the 20th century, Texas Baptists called him the Texas Tornado. As pastor of First Baptist Church of Fort Worth, J. Frank Norris lashed out against almost everyone and everything. In one of his infamous hate campaigns, “The Tornado” tore into the mayor of Fort Worth because he was Roman Catholic. Dexter Clipps, a supporter of the mayor, confronted Norris in his study over some of the pastor’s defaming remarks. There were no witnesses to the conflict, but Norris claimed self-defense when he shot the unarmed Clipps in the church office. A Fort Worth jury acquitted him.

I know fall is coming. Lately, every morning, a small flock of Mourning Doves gathers in our front yard for breakfast. They return in the evening for supper. They are beautiful. Their call, on the other hand, is a somewhat sad sound (thus their name “mourning” doves). Larger flocks of other birds, such as starlings, are beginning to gather, but they generally gather in larger fields to feed.

Imagining the scene at last week’s Saltville Town Council meeting, you could almost hear Johnny Paycheck singing in the background announcing to the world, “You better not try to stand in my way as I’m walking out the door. Take this job and shove it. I ain’t working here no more.”

The September meeting of the Saltville Town Council was in open session about 80 minutes. Of course there were agenda items for closed session: “the actual and probable litigation regarding the rails-to-trails issues and to discuss the acquisition of real property for a public purpose.” No closed meeting agenda items gave any specifics as required by the Code of Virginia. 
Rails to Trails is on the agenda every month but no one is any litigation and I don’t know of any probable litigation. One brave person stood and asked about the property considered for purchase on the closed meeting agenda. She wanted to know what it was. She was ignored. They didn’t even blink. Just brushed her away like a pesky bug.  Didn’t even have the common courtesy to say that they weren’t going to answer or to attempt to justify their position.  She lost her nerve and sat down. 

I know it’s Steptember.  How could I forget?  Every day this month, since I signed up with American On the Move to walk the Iditarod Trail, I’ve received a reminder in my email box along with some tip on how to be a better walker.

I didn’t like it when they re-routed the road, lassoing the Tobias-Smyth cabin in asphalt. I didn’t like it when I heard Wiley would be getting an upgrade and might stop looking like a set piece for “Dead Poets Society.” And I for sure wasn’t excited about a three-story addition, green or not, to Byars Hall. 

My wife Sweetness flew to Minneapolis to meet our friend Mary Huggins. From there they drove to Winnipeg, Canada for a conference.  While Winnipeg is almost due north of Minneapolis, to get there, like everywhere else, you have to drive to North Dakota.  I got out my map to follow their trip.