When I first heard about the murders at Robb Elementary School in Uvalde, Texas, my inclination was to immediately write a column and send it to my editor, Rebekah.

With great pleasure, today I give you my fifth annual summer reading list, joining the throngs of columnists, bloggers, podcasters and general reading enthusiasts who believe when the weather turns warm and/or you’re heading to the beach, mountains or some other getaway, it won’t be complete…

When we bought new windows for our house last year, we supposedly received some type of discount in return for displaying a sign in our yard with the window company’s logo and agreeing to write a good review (if we were pleased) on social media and/or one of those neighborhood websites.  

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Fallout continues after the leak of a draft U.S. Supreme Court opinion that will, if eventually published, overturn the famous abortion case Roe v. Wade.  

One of the most interesting – and fun – parts of being a grandparent has been learning what toys and games are now popular, and to know what old, reliable ones have stood the test of time.  

A very nice gentleman who is running for one of the Williamson County Commission seats stopped by my house last weekend.  

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Every so often, I’ll write about a topic that hits a common nerve, resulting in a few emails in my inbox.  

My three adult children think of me as not much of a theme park guy.

I will occasionally listen to the podcast “What Should I Read Next?” hosted by Anne Bogel of Louisville, who reads upwards of 100 books per year.  

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Enough!  I've had it!  I can't take it anymore! This small object the size of a tiny tin of Altoid mints is trying to control my life.   

Many years ago, living in a new city and in my first year of law school, I had attended a certain church a couple of times.

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During his recent State of the Union address, President Biden said, “I know some are talking about living with COVID-19, but tonight, I say we never will just accept living with COVID-19.” 

The spring season is typically a season of transition, a metaphor for shaking off the old and welcoming the new.

We have a calendar committee in Rome around 45 BC to thank for having the foresight to shortchange February by giving it just 28 days. 

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When I was in elementary school, I assumed I would eventually be drafted into the military and would go to Vietnam.  

Years ago, I aligned myself with a group of people who opposed the implementation of a balanced calendar in the Williamson County Schools.

It probably came as no surprise to my wife a few days ago when I made the offhand comment to her that I had resigned myself to the fact I would never be a contestant on the TV show “Survivor.”   

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Winning an Olympic medal is never an end to itself.

Previous installments about the housing situation around these parts have brought sympathetic comments.

A jolt of excitement hit the Biden presidency last week when Justice Stephen Breyer somewhat surprisingly announced his retirement from the United States Supreme Court.  

It has not gone unnoticed by me that, when I go to retrieve the daily newspaper from the driveway, I have no neighbors doing the same.

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During the holiday season, my older son enjoys reading our past Christmas letters, many of which are now in a hard bound book my wife had made a few years ago.  

On New Year’s Eve we drove around with the top down on the Miata to view fireworks. On Saturday we rode to the park with the top down again, and walked our laps in short sleeves. Now, this is my idea of winter!   

When I was a young boy, there was a common saying among folks of my parents’ generation: 

A Christmas tree stands naked in our family room.  

By the time you read this, you will know the outcome of the Southeastern Conference championship game.  

I suppose this idea of Thanksgiving has gotten fairly complicated.  I grew up in Massachusetts, in such close proximity to Plymouth Rock that I was well acquainted with the romantic version of the Thanksgiving story.

Looking for the perfect gift that shows your loved ones how much you care?

Until recently, I knew very little about the supply chain.  

When you misspell something during a Google search you'll get a message that says "Did you mean?" and it offers a corrected approximation of your intent. 

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It is not lost on me that, when I ask a rhetorical question like, “How in the world did it get to be Thanksgiving?”, I am mouthing a variation on the platitudes heard in the commercials in which people are trying to keep from becoming their parents.  

You might be familiar with the old saying, “politics makes strange bedfellows.” 

Jimmy Dugan, the acerbic girls’ baseball team manager played by Tom Hanks in the 1992 movie, “A League of Their Own,” famously said, “There’s no crying in baseball.” 

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When someone learns that I had worked on staff with Dr. Gary Chapman and have co-authored some books with him, I’m often quick to add “I’ve known Gary since I was 14 years old and I can confirm that he’s the real deal.”  

For quite some time my college friend Martha and I have traded recommendations of books and authors. My wife Susan is now also part of the exchange.  

It is truly the most wonderful time of the year.