Floating through festival history

   I’ve learned something over the years. If I need to gather historical information, I need to do it on a Friday. I get lost in it, because it’s fun to me, and it’s also fun for the history keepers, making it easier to keep going down the winding path and taking trips on its offshoots.

Seeking local experts

   Not too long ago, local newspapers often had columnists from different parts of a community sharing the various happenings — so-and-so had a dinner party, a student visited from college, or maybe a garden club had a meeting.

Letters to the Editor

The inhumanity of recent deportations To the editor:    The last time you bit into a chicken sandwich, did you think about how the chicken got there?

Remembering the era of goats, marbles

   It’s funny how the mention of one word about something from the past—I mean, way past—conjures up all kinds of memories.

Plan for our libraries’ future

   Something is better than nothing.    Earlier this week, the Mt. Airy Town Council decided to give $500 to the Habersham County Libraries to help support its budget.

Letters to the Editor

Pleased with Trump To the editor:    As a 95-year-old senior, I have been privileged to live through good as well as bad times in our nation’s history. My family survived the Depression. I was a teenager during World War II.

Always showing pride

   There was something we all learned eventually growing up in my house. Even if it looked like my dad was asleep on the couch on Sunday afternoons as golf played on the television, we were not to change the channel.

Proud of our teachers

   Who was your favorite teacher?    It’s a question we often ask valedictorians and salutatorians at graduation time, and then we ask them why.    Often, the teachers they select are ones who taught them more than what’s in the text book or the curriculum.

Letters to the Editor

The huddle To the editor:    What I am about to present to you has about a 99.99 percent chance of never occurring unless a power beyond what we understand, and a power we cannot control, were to appear on the scene.

Whistling and wobbling finally led to Hallelujah

   Sometimes you find yourself doing things you never dreamed you would ever do. So was the case late in the evening of Monday, April 14. It was just before bedtime and I was lying face-first on the hardwood floor of our guest bedroom.