Columns/Opinions

Memory is a big deal as we age. Some of us in the septuagenarian generation can handle long term/long ago remembrance, while others do well with short term recollection, things that happened in the recent past.
What prompted this examination of memory is a recent mistake with a special date, my youngest brother’s birthday.
I called to issue a “have a happy day,” and caught him just as he was walking into a business meeting.
He informed me it was not his birthday but rather our

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Anyone just starting out in reality’s work-a-day world is going to make mistakes...some of them real lulus.
As a kid, a teenager and, briefly, as a young man, I was a bit on the bashful, shy side.
Those who have known me from middle age to now, will laugh at the idea of my shyness.
Naturally, parents and their personalities —   both their familial and public — greatly influence most youngsters.
My folks were so shy that when they married on

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Cameras have always been a puzzle to me.
If it isn’t a “point-and-shoot,” my ability to discuss the photo capabilities of any of those instruments is extremely limited.
After all, what can a guy do since he knows that when he says “mechanical,” he’s told you all he knows.
I mean, really, I’m supposed to be the creative sort, not some engineering miracle worker.
When the professor handed me a

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Cursing is not a flattering form of speech for the speaker and certainly not for any intended or even incidental target.
Of course, in Texiz and much of the Old South, we don’t say “cursing,” we refer to the vile verbal bile as “cussin’.”
My mother’s list of unacceptable words was endless.
On the other hand, Dad’s raising was more hard-scrabble. He was a cowboy-rancher-farmer, who was orphaned at 11 and destined to a boyhood and pre-teen years as an unwanted Depression cast-off by his relatives.
His youth knew little tenderness or refinement. His language could be salty.
However, Dad knew better

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There are all kinds of conventions and everyone who attends one has stories to tell.
We’ve all heard or read about conventions that are wild and woolly, some that are sedate and those of each kind that are filled with uplifting and informative programs.
In my three-quarters of a century of living, I’ve been to some of both kinds.
Probably the “wildest and woolliest” meetings were a couple of regional Jaycee conflabs.
Originally, Jaycees were known as the Junior Chamber of Commerce (Jaycees for short) with membership restricted to young men ages 18-35.
Ultimately, there was a

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Written by Le Pup Savage

I conspired with The Mom to sneak a column in place of the one The Dad (aka Willis Webb, aka mild-mannered reporter Clark Kent aka The Kolyumnist) usually writes for Texas community newspapers.
The Mom sends out the columns, and she and I both are, well, smarter than The Dad.
You may note that “The” is part of everyone’s title in the Webb household.
In addition to The Parents (The Mom and The Dad), there’s The Boy (their son Weston), The Sweetie (Weston’s main squeeze, Heather) and The Puppy…that’s me.
Yeah, I know, I’m nearly

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With the easy availability of doctors, clinics and hospitals plus the proliferation of over-the-counter drugs and medical prescriptions, one doesn’t hear much about “home remedies” anymore.
Since that topic is pretty much non-existent these days, those of us of a couple of generations back sometimes

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When someone asks me what I’m going to do on New Year’s Eve, I usually tell them I’m going to be at home in my comfortable recliner watching something representative of the holiday, most likely a football game.
I’m not quite a teetotaler — I do have a glass of good white wine on occasion, generally with or just before a wonderful meal by Life Mate.
But, not since my somewhat miscreant college days have I imbibed on that holiday in a dangerous and irresponsible manner, nor any other day, for that matter.
Every year, between Christmas and the dawning of

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Texas’ regional accents are a source of fascination. Trying to study them is difficult, probably even for an English professor.
If you’ve read my missives more than occasionally, you know I love Texas, I love Texans and I love Texas lingo.
When encountering a different sound than one you hear every day, it pays to listen. If you can identify it and reveal that to the speaker, it will often amaze them.
It’s also a great door opener with a new acquaintance.
For purposes of this bit of examination, a couple of things need to be established.
First, I’m no expert.

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Being raised in a small town where most people didn’t have much, forced many to scrape and scramble to make a living.
Pride in supporting yourself and your family was a strong motivation for most folks I knew in my growing up years.
Standing on your own two feet was the mantra of that period I am inclined to describe as “hard-scrabble” times.
This promoted an attitude, from childhood on, of “Don’t mess with me.
“I’m the Lone Ranger and I can take care of me and Tonto.”
Perhaps that’s a poor example since Tonto often took care of the Lone Ranger, but I digress.
Withstanding pain was a

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