July 17, 2018
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Since I’ve retired, I don’t pay attention to individual days the way I used to. I don’t remember anything about last Monday, for example. As far as I know, nothing happened on that day ...
I’ve had a life-long dream that will never be realized. It’s too late, and I’m too late in life to pursue it now.
I’ve made fun of the English language before, and I frankly expected that it would be a long time before I did so again. Well, friends and neighbors, ...
I have sported a mustache and trimmed beard for some years. Growing both just seemed to be the right thing to do, particularly since I’m part of two reenactment groups in Prescott.
During his 20s, Phil was a Naval officer with extraordinary eyesight. He frequently could see distant objects on the water when others used binoculars to do so.
An early morning at the Williams house is frequently a kaleidoscope of conversations. Once in a while, a full-fledged debate will break out. ...
I figured other local Santas were already shouldering the demand for the jolly red suit and whisker events.
I’m not sure my chronological age quite qualifies me for one, but I feel like a fossil these days.
My spiritual advisor, Stephan, encouraged me to write this column. Just so you’ll know.
I have a major announcement to make. I have just named Chino Valley’s Julie and Mike as my Technical Advisors for Domestic Chicken Affairs. ...
It would be nearly impossible to travel in either direction past the intersection of Highway 69 and Prescott Lakes Parkway in Prescott without noticing the gigantic American flag that flies over the Lamb Chevrolet -Cadillac dealership on the corner.
What do the following items have in common: a sardine, a mushroom, a marlin, an apple, a pickle and a potato?
The gauntlet had been thrown down. It was a Wells Lamont work glove and it lay half on the living room rug and half on the laminate flooring. ...
It’s quandary time again. Back in late 2015, I entered the field of candidates for the 2016 presidential election.
Leading up to World War II, Russell Eugene Christiansen was a life insurance salesman in St. Louis, Missouri. As a civilian, he had no way ...
Last week’s column ended with Derek realizing that God had shadowed him and cleared obstacles to his recovery. But even with the power of that realization, Derek slid back into drug addiction. But this time was different.
Albert Dusz, my maternal grandfather, died 57 years ago. Among my misty memories of him are the aromatic tobacco smoke swirling from his pipe into the afternoon air, and the denim overalls he always wore.
At the end of last week’s column, Derek was nearing release from prison when he received a letter from a woman he’d known eight years earlier....
This is the first of a three-part series that follows a young man into the depths of Hell. Somewhere in those depths, he finds redemption, but not without a high personal cost.
By the time this column runs, the NFL season will be over and the power of my peeve will have run out of gas.
Reflecting backward from the perch of my advanced age, I was never one of the “with it” crowd. I never knew what “it” was, where “it” was, or if I had to wear clean socks to accompany “it.”
I like to tell the joke about the English playwright, composer, director, actor and singer Noel Coward who dies and goes to Heaven. ...
Usually, I don’t recognize the daily words they fling at me. I’m thinking if I’ve never heard of it at my age, it’s a word I probably don’t need.
A “southwester” is defined simply as strong winds from the Southwest. That’s easy enough to understand. Recently, the Williams residence experienced a southwester of magnificent proportions that may set the record for the occurrence of a natural phenomenon within a household.
I doubt that anyone else will document the Great Blizzard of 2023. I’m going to ignore the probable reasons why and rush into the details of this largely unreported climatological event.
I recently interviewed an orchestra leader who featured prominently in the Big Band and Swing era of American music.
Last week’s column described Pvt. Benigno’s imprisonment at Lager 118. This week, hear how he and his fellow POWs found out that the end of the war was nearing.
In last week’s column, we learned that Russell Anthony Benigno had been captured by the Germans during the Battle of the Bulge and had just been transported to Prison Camp Lager 118 just outside Lutzschena, Germany.
Since we’re soon to hear another boring and largely nonsensical State of the Union Address, filled with spending we can’t afford, this January, I decided to look back into history for one that might be easier to digest.
A few weeks ago, my friend Robert loaned me a file containing a hand-written manuscript of a soldier’s experiences during World War II.
The Best Man could be a heart-warming story of a young couple marrying on Christmas Eve after a heart-warming engagement dreaming of children, a heart-warming home in the ’burbs with a picket fence, and a black lab named Gertrude. But instead, this column, although still heart-warming, is about Chino Valley Citizen Mike Best.
Just the other day, Carolyn Harris of the Skull Valley Historical Society emailed a Budge Ruffner column to me that appeared in the Courier on December 19, 1980.
The world has never had too few mysteries to contemplate. Some have been solved. Many have not. One of the strangest mysteries ...
During the year 1993, Bill Clinton was inaugurated as the 42nd U.S. president, Sears eliminated its 97-year-old catalog sales department, and the Eiffel Tower welcomed its 150,000,000th visitor.
I’m a little hesitant to write this week’s column. I feel compelled to do so, however, since I recently became aware of the word “adulting.”
I look forward to Christmas every year along with all the rest of us. Even at my advanced age, it’s a joyous celebration for a number of reasons.
I sat down this morning to list the types of art that abound around me.
A few months ago, my wife and I and volunteers around the state of Arizona collected signatures on a petition in support of Proposition 309 (the photo ID initiative) that ultimately appeared on the ballot of the recent midterm elections.
I’ve been a member of the Williams family for about five months now. Let me say right out loud that, yes, I’m a dog, but I prefer the more formal designation of Canis lupus familiaris.
I have yet another outstanding solution to a vexing problem. I know my efforts will be ignored, but I feel an obligation to offer my best thinking anyway.
I’ve been using English all my life, and I still chafe at the rules I have to follow to use it “properly” according to the rule-makers. There are some languages that are more citizen-friendly than ours.
Willy Stealthmeyer was a longtime resident of Wheezy Holler, a small 1880s mining town somewhere in Wyoming. Although he had a passel of things to say, he never had the proper time or place to express them. And so, I thought I’d loan my column to Willy today.
The Chino Valley Morning Lions Club expects delivery soon of its Christmas tree order for this year’s holiday tree-selling season that begins the day after Thanksgiving.
The musical Fiddler on the Roof debuted in 1964 on Broadway to great acclaim.
Neighbor Jack just told me that a used pair of Levi’s jeans from the 1880s, found in a deserted mine sold for $87,000 at an auction in New Mexico.
While I was serving in Vietnam, I was enjoying a cold brew in some darkened den somewhere when I started reading the label of the beer bottle in my hand....
There are allegedly 15 words in the English language that end in the syllable “nym.”
In last week’s column, I wrote about riding with Police Officer Jon Szymanski during his day shift. Sixteen days later, I joined Officer Hector Torres for his night shift.
I recently fulfilled a dream that I’ve nurtured for the past 30 years. With Chino Valley Police Chief Chuck Wynn’s help, I did a “ride along” with two of our local police officers, one on the day shift and one on the night shift.
Did you know Prescott was the Arizona Territorial Capital from 1864 to 1867 and from 1877 until 1889?
Jason Dystra is the lead pharmacist behind the counter at the Chino Valley Pharmacy. His journey from his home state of Michigan to Chino Valley was predestined while he was still a very young man.
I had the unfortunate experience of participating in an endless stream of business meetings during my career. Staff meetings. Client meetings....
Did you hear about the “shoot-out” at the Western Heritage Center on Whiskey Row the other day?
I recently read in an aviation magazine about a bush pilot in Alaska. He flies an old crop duster biplane that requires frequent servicing. He described his airplane as “a collection of used parts flying in formation.”
Over the years, I’ve suggested that my talents, such as they are, could qualify me for a number of high-profile positions in the entertainment world.
Chino Valley resident Tim Frandsen graduated from the University of Maryland in 1993 with a degree in business administration. Shortly after graduation, his college roommate suggested that he teach English in Japan.
Mike Fogel and I first met in 2015. I’d just started a long-term substitute teacher assignment at the local high school and Mike was the librarian....
Every once in a while as I write these columns, I get a wild hair.
Recently, I settled into my trusty living room recliner to watch an episode or two of Tales of Wells Fargo, the 1957 to 1962 TV western featuring Dale Robertson.
My wife and I have been hooked by a number of TV series over the years. We waited 20 seasons to watch all the Sopranos episodes, but when we finally agreed to enter the world of organized crime hand-in-hand with Tony Soprano...
For the past few years, I’ve wanted to own a small pick-up truck.
ADVISORY: This column describes a recent domestic “military mission” in which the graphic detail may concern small children and pets. If your young offspring or cocker spaniel/Chihuahua mix is sensitive to the depiction of dramatic events, please exercise caution.
My wife and I have had several “conversations” about the condition of the desktop in my home office. I probably should clarify this last sentence by saying that my wife and I had several conversations about my desktop.
For some years, I’ve been content to ease gently into my elder years.
I was dallying in my he-cave the other night pondering the vagaries of life when the topic of scrapbooks came to mind. Most of us began our association with scrapbooks at an early age.
I ordinarily don’t write about pants, especially if a specific person I know wears them. It is, you know, a potentially sensitive and delicate subject.
During the past several months, I’ve endured over 784 TV commercials for losing weight.
No matter where your ache or pain is, there’s a fix for it, at least according to the claims on the pill bottle labels. At last count, I’m consuming something in the ballpark of 26 supplements daily to maintain what health I have left.
Serving its congregation is a separate but, of course, equally critical mission. The congregation isn’t a monolithic collection of souls, but slices of population brought together by faith.
Tom and Phoebe Ritter of Kirkland, Arizona tell me that during the 1950s and 60s, Kirkland was a busy little town.
Wayne Ballard, pastor of Grace Church, graduated from a small college in Houston with a bachelor’s in communications with an emphasis in theater.
As the country emerges from that blasted COVID misery, developers are, once again, making plans to provide the homes and neighborhoods that Americans will need as everyone teeters back toward normal.
How many movies have you seen or how many books have you read recently that claimed to be “Based on a true story”?
Many of my early childhood memories center around Friday nights and Saturday mornings in the 1950s.
Now that I’m retired, however, I don’t want to spend what’s left of my adult life exchanging any kind of words with people on the phone whom I don’t know, aka telemarketers.
You may have read about the Chino Valley Repertory Theatre’s anticipated production on Sept. 9 and 10 entitled Letters of Love and Hope from the Front.
You may have read about the Chino Valley Repertory Theatre’s anticipated production on Sept. 9 and 10, entitled “Letters of Love and Hope from the Front.”
I recently had an opportunity to sit down with three firefighters from the Central Arizona Fire and Medical Authority here in Chino Valley. I sought the answers to two questions. ...
I’ve written before about dark forces that are thriving to erode the character and traditions of America.
My wife and I just started watching an outstanding nature series entitled “Animal” on Netflix.
Hi there. My name is Jim. Jim Slade. I want to set the record straight about some stagecoach “robberies” a number of years ago not far from Prescott.
Chino Valley Mayor Jack Miller wanted to be a police officer when he was young. But that was before he saw Phoenix TV coverage of a fugitive who had killed his wife and fled.
By all measures, who is the most power person in the world? No, Tom Brady doesn’t even make the list. The Most Powerful Person (MPP) isn’t the U.S. President either at least not these days. It isn’t Miss Piggy, or Chino Valley Mayor Jack Miller.
When one reaches the mid-seventies in age, there are very few things left that one does “for the very first time.” Well, my wife and I did just that recently when we attended the Prescott Livestock Auction.
I, along with school children everywhere, learned that Ponce de Leon searched for the fountain of youth.
My wife and I have been reading a David Baldacci book entitled A Gambling Man.
Interviews with professional athletes and coaches before and after the “Big Game” never change. I’ve probably watched thousands of such interviews over the decades to hear the same lifeless questions and the same lackluster answers.
Who knew that Skull Valley, Arizona, might be the polo/wedding capital of the state?
My wife and I have been reading a David Baldacci book entitled “A Gambling Man.” But it isn’t this specific novel that I’m using to fuel today’s column.
I’m prepared to explain some things about Epsom salt that you’ve never heard before, and some things that have never been in print, and possibly for good reason.
My wife and I enjoy life, partly because we each have a variety of interests and life experiences. There are some activities, however, that we’re learning to eliminate from our schedule ...
Since I’m an occasionally observant person, I’ve noticed a trend in my own physical and mental presence. That trend is that I’m definitely growing older.
This is one of those “What America Needs Is…” columns. Yes, I’m writing about profanity today, but not just the run-of-the-mill variety of obscenities
The Russian invasion of Ukraine has forced me to revisit my relationship with my own country.
Little did I know that by contributing to a non-profit charity, I’d inherit a wealth of riches in addition to helping folks in genuine need of assistance.
Since I’ve become an adult (unsolicited estimates range on that date from the middle of 1977 to early this year), I’ve heard references to Feng Shui.
If you’re looking for a perfect castle (in England) that offers that special homey feel complete with fireplaces, wood paneling in the den, and an upgraded kitchen, you might want to contact ...
Thinking back over my years brings me snout to snout with a number of emotions. One of them is remorse about things I said to my parents, my friends.
This may be the only column you’ll ever read about an interview with a train robber.
We lost our last Black Lab about two years ago. As I remember each of the girls that we considered close members of our family, the thought occurs to me that even though we loved them dearly, I never wanted to have a conversation in English with them.
I’m well aware that Christmas is in our rear-view mirror, but I have to vent.
My wife will hemorrhage a brick when she edits this column, since she’s the focus of it, along with a football legend.
You may have no idea who Chino Valley residents Barbara Jean and Keith Meeker are. By the end of this column, however, you will know them well since I’m going to reveal some family secrets.
OK, it’s high time I unburdened myself. I’m at last willing to confess that I’ve been carrying a crippling chip on my shoulder since 1956.
I distinctly remember in high school plowing through various literary classics authored by Coleridge, Houseman, Byron, Wordsworth, Whitman, Dickens and Poe. The most challenging were Paradise Lost by John Milton, the general works of Shakespeare and, God help me, Beowulf.
I’m used to being ignored. I’ve whined more than once about folks completely dismissing my suggestions for a better local society. I know that this column will experience the same demise. ...
Whilst I’m tickled to provide the following information, I make no representation or warranties of any kind, express or implied about the completeness, accuracy...
Does today’s America still match up to its legendary history as the land of opportunity and the land of unlimited individual potential?
I recently ran across a fascinating resource that is custom made for the kind of codswallop I put into these columns. You may have heard of it — The Guinness Book of World Records.
I used to be more careful about what I wore out in public. Of course, when I was still in the work force, I needed to dress as if I were a serious person.
OK, listen. You’re going to think you’ve read this column before with my grandiose plans to be become ultra-wealthy.
I was minding my own business the other day, when my flabber was gasted to learn that I didn’t know how one should eat.
I’m now a graduate of the Academy. No, not the Academy at West Point, the Academy Awards, or the Academy of the Royal Society of New Zealand. I’m talking about a more important academy since I’m a loyal, flag-toting citizen of our fair town.
It has long been a goal in my columns to address the pithier issues of our society and of our time. That’s why I investigated the concern of TV advertising spokes-animals ...
Along about the mid-1950s, a young boy and his grandfather visited the Pea Ridge National Military Park in Benton County, Arkansas. During that visit the boy received a musket ball souvenir from an elderly lady.
All my life, I’ve walked out of retail stores, barbershops, exercise emporiums, table tennis clubs, restaurants, and who knows what other (legal) establishments, with fewer of my possessions than when I entered them.
In April 2020, I wrote a column entitled “The most important paper in the universe.” At the time, I felt I had fulfilled my obligation to toilet paper...
I’m proud of the headline of this column since it offers NO information about the content that follows. This is a semi-clever way to motivate readers ...
For some reason, the word “ilk” has been pestering me over the last few days. Honestly, I have enough on my plate; I don’t need to be badgered by miscellaneous and infrequently used words in the English language who have nothing better to do with their time.
Sir William Wallace was a Scottish knight and a leader during the First War of Scottish Independence against the English. In 1297, he and his ragtag troops defeated a formidable English army at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. ...
I never thought that Hydroxy Benzoyl Hexyl Benzoate would liven up my day.
As a member of the Chino Valley Morning Lions Club, I find myself traipsing along Highway 89 here in town several times a year picking up the flotsam and jetsam of modern living from both sides of the highway.
Richard Coleman says walking the five-mile Peavine Trail here in Chino Valley is far more than mere physical exercise.
We’ve all had a lot to ponder and to process these past few months. Every new day in 2020 brought with it a whole new challenge.
This year has been blemished by countless nights of riots and looting in cities across the country, destructive acting out that actually had nothing to do with the alleged racial discrimination that purportedly sparked the violence.
Over the years whilst watching sweaty westerns on TV and in the movies, I’ve seen a great number of Mexican villages raided by bad guys.
I’m so proud of myself. I traveled to the store this past weekend and came close to breaking the world’s record for speed-grocery shopping. Not only did I cut quite a striking figure catapulting through the food aisles, but I also located three 15.5 oz. cans of Kroger-brand hominy.
Earlier this year, Chino Valley Repertory Theatre Creative Director Jeff Frohock was faced with a problem.
One of the pleasures of writing a newspaper column is the opportunity to meet folks with unique life experiences. Such was the case recently when I visited with Nick and Rada, who are naturalized US citizens from Serbia.
One of the pleasures of writing a newspaper column is the opportunity to meet folks with unique life experiences. Such was the case recently when I visited with Nick and Rada who are naturalized US citizens from Serbia.
At last count, there are approximately 2,741 in-home exercise machines available to sculpt, chisel and mold various parts of one’s body. Each of these actions sounds excruciating.
To young boys of my generation, there were only so many professional advancement plans on our radar screens: policeman, fireman, astronaut, to be the next Johnny Unitus, etc.
The United Kingdom has already prepared its list of names for hurricanes that may occur this coming winter in the North Atlantic Ocean. I don’t object to being prepared. Generally, I don’t object to the contents of this list that includes names such as Heulwen, Phoebe, Fleur, Saidhbhin and Naia, except that I can’t pronounce some of them.
The United Kingdom has already prepared its list of names for hurricanes that may occur this coming winter in the North Atlantic Ocean.
As we all know, in December of this year, Chino Valley Mayor Darryl Croft, Councilman Mike Best and Town Clerk Jami Lewis are retiring from public service and trundling off into the sunset.
This column will address some issues that are seldom contemplated today. Who gives generations names? Why?
I’ve worked during my life to develop a reliable vocabulary. Don’t know why, particularly, but it was kind of fun adding an obscure word to my verbal arsenal even if I rarely used it. I have at last reached a point in my tenure that I can understand most of what I hear but less and less of what I see on TV each night, but that’s another issue.
Did you know there are anywhere from 8,000 to 10,000 Patron Saints … or more? I’m led to believe that this broad count also includes blesseds and venerables.
I think it’s time we had a different kind of demonstration in the streets. A peaceful but passionate one with a theme that most American citizens can support. It’s a theme that would help us put many of today’s news reports in perspective.
You’ll be gleeful that you chose to read this column. Today in only one lesson, I’m going to tell you how to elevate your self-esteem to dizzying heights.
In past columns I’ve freely admitted that my wife and I are retired folks living the dream and the simple life here in Chino Valley.
Chino Valley resident Tony Saverino become a businessman very early in life. In the early 1930’s, he operated a shoe shine box promoting “Free shoe shines with a 5-cent tax.” He sold
There, it’s happened again. I was just regaling friends with a fascinating experience I’d had just a couple of years ago when my animated narrative hit a brick wall.
Especially during these times of COVID-19 shutdown, one seeks activities to keep the mind and fingers busy. I was probably first introduced to the phenomenon of knitting when my parents told me I should “tend to my own knitting” rather than be concerned about what others were doing, saying and thinking.
I recently read the Black Lives Matter website. The most glaring problem I saw was that the expressed justification for the group is demonstrably false.
Each and every one of us has been dared by colleagues to do something, go somewhere, or to act in some way that is outside our normal behavior pattern.
A few days ago, my wife introduced a new concept for dinner called a shrimp mooshoo … burrito-type thing. Not only is the wife mighty capable and creative as a master gardener in landscaping around our house, she is equally imaginative in the kitchen.
I thought we as a nation were facing severe enough challenges during the heights of the coronavirus scourge.
In a ceaseless crusade to redefine my life, I’ve been thinking about becoming a philanthropist. My unique brand of self-serving and superficial research indicates that this occupation might be the best kind of “thropist” out there.
Recently, I visited the hospital for a corrective procedure followed by two weeks of very gentle living as prescribed by the surgeon.
When Joe was born in 1847, his family was respected among the merchants and shopkeepers of Mako, Hungary. Just six years later, Joe’s father retired and moved his family to Budapest.
Harri was born Jan. 24, 1635, in Wales. His village of birth is reported to have been Llanrhymny, which is completely unpronounceable in the modern world, as are most Welsh geographical locations.
I probably wouldn’t have written this column about the history of and importance of tickling in our modern-day universe, but Joe, a friend in the Valley, sent me a column penned by now-deceased Arizona Republic reporter and columnist Clay Thompson.
OK Listen, for some time now, I’ve sought that huge financial windfall that would put me in the chips. I’ve run at least two columns promoting myself for a multi-million-dollar contract to be a national spokesman for whatever product or service.
I think this column is a sequel to a recent column I wrote about memory. Problem is, I don’t remember what the first column was about so the possibility that this column is actually a sequel may be an illusion.
I probably met Santa Claus somewhere around 1950 in Indianapolis, Indiana, where our nuclear family was living at the time.
Memory can be a real challenge. I had a really powerful title for today’s sermon, but for some reason, it now eludes me.
I feel confident accusing you of being a pusher in your past life (lives). I was. My wife was. Of course, I’m not talking about pushing drugs. I’m referring to pushing pins: push pins.
Although my wife and I don’t have dogs at the current time, I still have a number of pets in the house. I’m talking about pet peeves.
I’m not talking about Andrew Lloyd Webber’s musical production that first performed in 1980. I’m talking about the domestic kind that sleep on your living room couch.
Astrologists explain that folks born under the same Zodiac sign usually share similar traits, personalities, abilities, and so forth. If that’s true, why aren’t I more like Julius, Bill, John and Giovanni in the following paragraphs? I ask since they and I were all born on May 24 at one time or another.
The last few weeks have changed life. Major changes in life’s routine used to take months or years to manifest themselves. I miss the gradual, almost imperceptible mutations that I didn’t notice until someone pointed them out to me.
It may have been on June 21, 1963, when I became a man. I was standing in my parents’ kitchen over a skillet of sizzling bacon … without a shirt.
Johnny Carson, Conan O’Brian, Jay Leno, Harry Truman. Wait, what? Harry was never a late-night jokester on TV, but he delivered a snappy punch line now and then.
I don’t believe in making the bed every morning. But I don’t think that’s a real fault or character flaw. I mean, taking up valuable time to smooth out a bed that I’m going to unsmooth that night reduces the time I can employ to do angelic things for my community and my country, right? T
I’ve spent several columns over the years kvetching about the blockbuster novel that I’ve never written. If I could sit down, say, over a long weekend, and compose an intergalactic best seller, my life would change.
When I first ran across a fellow named Joseph C. Gayetty online, I thought his was a great name for a major newspaper publisher with millions of readers and a man who wielded great influence in his home city and around the country.
I recently woke up at 2:30 a.m. This sudden and unexpected launch into a new day at such an uncivilized hour was jolting, but I took advantage of the situation by beginning a to-do list for all the things I wanted to accomplish during the upcoming hours.
I’d only want to be an inventor if the things I invented came true.
It’s been a busy two weeks already. Meetings cancelled.
I’m nostalgic when it comes to keeping things. I still have (and wear) shirts and shoes that are older than most high school seniors in this town.
To amuse myself recently, I looked up the acronym “DNA.”
Not long ago, I happened to watch the 1957 movie “Gunfight at the OK Corral.”
Way back in April of 2015, I wrote a column announcing the decision to name my much dreamed and schemed about book “Breakfast with a Three-Legged Dog.”
If you persist in reading this column today rather than doing something worthwhile with your time, you’ll learn about a number of words that you have never heard of and will never use. I’m on my knees thanking the vocabulary gods that English is such a target-rich language.
Last week’s column left you, David, his brother, mother and grandfather departing Singapore and heading for Vietnam where they anchored off shore for three weeks since, in 1965, the country wasn’t receiving civilian visitors.
Most of the time, life is a crap shoot, so I let the doubloons land where they may.
This column is about a friend of mine, a boy who embarked upon a global pilgrimage at the age of 15.
The last few times we’ve breakfasted at Skillets Café, my wife couldn’t focus on her scrambled eggs, it seems, she was seriously distracted by the dog paintings displayed on the wall above our table.
I’ve been led to believe over my life that with reincarnation, the “non-physical essence of a living being starts a new life in a different physical form or body after biological death.”
My wife and I have never been technophiles. Although we did get brand new cell phones just a few months ago. Eh, flip phones.
The end of 2019 has encouraged me to assess where I am as an American male and where I want to go in 2020.
Just before Christmas, my wife and I drove to Tucson.
Just this morning, my wife and I were discussing prefixes as a part of speech. As a young boy, I thought a prefix was something you did before you broke something. Pre- fixing something still sounds like a good idea to me.
My wife tells me I should have written about seasonal topics in December.
Christmas gift-giving is now past.
Writing columns is one of the greater joys of my life.
Chino Valley is a great place to live. That’s why there’s a thriving sense of community hereabouts. With that said, however, I have a brilliant way of making our fair town even better.
Over the past few years as a substitute teacher at our Chino Valley High School, I’ve come to know the School Security Officer, Glenn Koester.
Two or three times a week, when buried deeply in conversation, my wife and I utter the words, “Let’s Google it.!” when we need to check a fact. It seems that no matter what we ask of the Internet, we get a response that satisfies our curiosity and our conversational requirements.
In a column long ago and far away, I discussed a ludicrous clothing accessory, the necktie.
If you look up what happened on Jan. 13, 1885, you’ll see two entries: the death of Schuyler Colfax, an American politician who was born in 1823, and the birth of Alfred Carl.
I went to the Dollar Store here in Chino Valley the other day to buy party supplies.
For some reason, when my mind escapes the rigors of the here and now, I drift back to my early years in Fort Wayne, Indiana.
Headline in the Sept. 17, 1871 Dodge City Times: “U.S. Marshal Matt Dillon Resigns in a Huff!”
Until this column, there haven’t been a lot of men’s fashion breakthroughs to talk about in the past, say, 57 years.
I had occasion recently to interview the ‘Mysterious Mr. Q.’ We met in a room with black-out shades over the windows.
I was preparing my breakfast of gruel/oatmeal the other day.
You did it, again, Chino Valley and Paulden!
The average life span of the American male is 76 years.
Enough with the socks, ties, belts, aftershave and underwear as birthday, Christmas and Father’s Day gifts.
Patricia Earle knows something about horses. She grew up with horses in California.
I think it’s time for the concept of “level” to go. For years, in business and in business advertising, I’ve heard about taking it to the next level. What’s wrong with the level I’m already comfortable with?
When Hans Vang was 11 years old, he helped his Danish grandmother make bread and prepare meals for the family.
I know an amusing joke featuring an interview between Noel Coward and William Shakespeare.
Some years ago, I met a fellow by the name of Bill McMahan. He’s the guy who tortured me with physical therapy exercises as I recovered from shoulder and hip replacement surgeries. I hasten to add that due to his diligence and knowledge, as well as the skill of the surgeon, both replacement procedures were totally successful.
Half this column will be serious. Half won’t be. It’s up to you to decide which half is which.
I recently met with Chuck Wynn, Chino Valley Chief of Police.
It was a windy day in late April when I strolled into the Mad Dog Saloon.
Terry and his wife, Christina, immigrated to the U.S. from South Africa, in 2005. I spoke with him recently to ask why.
Neighbor Phil drew my attention to a quote recently that read, “Strange times are these in which we live when old and young are taught falsehoods in school.
It’s no secret that I love movies and TV series set in the Old West. I was, therefore, emotionally aflutter when I discovered that our cable programming included a 24/7 Western channel.
Growing up I had no brothers and one sister. I’ve never mourned being part of a small family. But I mourn today. Based on 2017 statistics, I mourn that I have over 325 million brothers and sisters in this country, but we’re not close.
In a recent column, I sought to realize my full true life’s potential by offering my services as a national spokesman for some product, service or whatever else. My supplication fell on uncaring ears, it seems.
Fifty-three years ago, I came into the possession of a wooden footlocker, courtesy of the U.S. Army.
There are mystical forces at work in the universe. One of them that receives too little attention is the verity that if two of something make up a set, one will always be missing.
Father Fred has been the pastor at St. Catherine Laboure Catholic Church here in Chino Valley since 2003....
Throughout history, we’ve learned about famous people who made significant contributions to the world’s societies. But I ask you, just how much do we know of these personalities? Who were they, really?
This is the first of a two-column report on how a Navy airman survived almost seven years as a POW in North Vietnam from 1966 to 1973.
Whether on a personal or national basis, we have faced tragedies before.
I’ve decided it’s time for some self-improvement. I could take a class on something. I could read a non-fiction book...
I’m amazed by a variety of things in life: the love of a devoted wife (even though it took three attempts to experience it); the lifelong loyalty of a dog; the warmth and power of the sun, which is over 93 million miles away (an orbit average); and, the frigid Phoenix Suns’ inability to reach the NBA finals in the past 25 years.
We’ve all seen movies, TV shows or read books about a person who is down and out, but through grit and doggedness has overcome the challenges and become fantastically successful....
During the course of my life, I’ve noticed that when children don’t get their way, they want to change the rules.
The title of this column was misleading as soon as I wrote it. I suspect that most folks already know Scott Bruner, director of the Chino Valley Library.
Life doesn’t have to be as complicated and convoluted as it is.
I’m always stunned when an investigative congressional committee asks a witness a question about some innocuous event that transpired several years previously....
I’m outraged that as a popcorn enthusiast also of the most energetic proportions, I didn’t know there was a National Popcorn Day until I heard about it on the radio.
Nothing is predictable in today’s world. Well, except for a young boy’s curiosity. ...
I wish to announce that I am available to be a spokesman for a national TV advertising campaign. For one thing, I can fake sincerity as well as anyone...
I’ve finally cleaned up my act, but it may be too late. When we had two or three dogs in the house, I spent a fair amount of time discussing important issues with them.
It was another quiet celebration of the New Year this year. Oh, we did join with some neighborhood friends to usher in the new calendar page, but most of us were comatose long before the magic ball/boot, or whatever else fell.
The Democrat Party has just streamlined our legal system.
When you turned 50 years of age, you may not have made a big deal out of it. But that’s not the case with Chino Valley.
In the spring of that year, 19-year-old Tommy went to war. It was his choice to join the army, even though he knew he’d be sent into an armed conflict overseas.
I’m growing increasingly frustrated with the lack of quality public discourse of the last few years.
Passion is an important thing. I’m not talking about the heavy-breathing kind in the backseat of a two-tone 1957 Chevy.
I like to keep things in my life simple. When I go to the barbershop here in Chino Valley, I (almost) always ask for the same type of haircut.
The answer to the question of who invented the man purse should be an easy one.