All in Classic Columns
So, if you've been living in the South for even a few winters, your snow legs are back in Buffalo or Boston. And your driving is as Southern as sweet tea.
Congratulations. Looks like you may not be the best driver in town. In fact, you may be part of the problem.
"Aw, the biggest danger you ever faced was just that one snowstorm," she laughed, as she launched into yet another tale that convinced me I may have been raised by wolves.
We all know Christmas isn't really about presents and toys. But that Whirligig was one fabulous contraption. And the best part may have been my father's sheer joy as he watched his kids twirling in happy abandon.
For a few heady years in the early 1960s, we could have been astronauts.
When I bought my sweater a decade ago, I actually believed I'd found the world's only elegant Christmas sweater. A crimson cardigan with a forest of nubby Christmas trees. I thought I looked cute in it. Until I caught my reflection, that is.
Wearing Christmas trees around one's mid-section is not flattering to any body type. Trust me on this one. Paired with leggings, my beloved sweater makes me look like a candy apple on a stick.
The accident was in the headlines for weeks. At first, simply because two innocent teens waiting for a traffic light to turn green had been killed by a speeding drunk who never applied his brakes.
Later, the stories took a different turn when it was discovered that not only did 22-year-old Alfredo Ramos plowed into Kunhardt’s car at more than 65 mph, but that he was what was then called an “illegal immigrant” – a term most newspapers have abandoned in favor of unwieldy euphemisms.
It’s one thing to lose a case in court. It’s something else to get slapped around by a federal judge in the process.
Inside that package was a soft, colorful baby blanket. It was mailed from my local post office on March 25 and arrived at its destination on July 11.
