The surprise came from two words cropping up in the exit poll reports. Moral values. The election was hinging on moral values.
I think I want to move.
Oh sure, I love the house, the property, the neighborhood, and the schools. All our friends are here and the dogs finally learned how to strew the trash about the yard in the most efficient manner.
With the holidays just around the corner, many of us make a special effort to prepare special foods that are a part of our family traditions.
It hardly seems like two years have passed, but the registration brochures circulating for the Ohio Dairy Management Conference confirm that they have.
The first political wisdom ever sent my way came from the gravelly throat of Everett Dirksen.
During Dirksen’s 1968 reelection stop in my southern Illinois hometown, I asked the white-maned Senate Minority Leader how he’d outflank Mayor Daley’s Chicago vote machine.
I am decidedly a country girl from way back, but I confess to one odd trait that makes me look like a city kid in the biggest way.
I had no idea so much was riding on my mattress.
That is, until the down comforter on our bed sprang a leak.
Miffed and mildly embarrassed, my high school senior, Jo, admitted one more time to friends at school that, as a little girl, her dad told her that tapioca was fish eggs.
Just before midnight Nov. 2, the empty Guinness cans in my kitchen sink rattled.
Two (of the three; there would be more later) fell.
“You often think that if you listen to what other people or situations require, you are being passive, even subordinate.