Some people embrace change. Others reject any change. In the newspaper business, change is the one consistent aspect. Each week, at the Jackson Suburbanite, we begin with a clean slate. Blank pages are filled with terrific advertising and shopping opportunities and interesting news articles and features.
It's not working, folks. I don't think it'll ever work. Writing this column and being without my dog just isn't the same. 'Tego's been long gone but I still miss her. You see, she used to rest by my feet as I wrote. Often I'd ask her opinion. "Does it sound better like this, 'Tego? Or should I word it this way?" Invariably she'd always wag her tail. One wag meant the first way and two meant the second. In the event there were three, she'd just add another wag. Hey, ‘Tego was no dummy.
One day recently, while I worked and listened on the radio as the Indians were well on their way to losing for what seemed to be about the 28th straight time, they broke in with an announcement about Vin Scully.
When you think of all that is on the table to be had in this, and every other, season by the teams, players and even coaches near and far in this state – from Conneuat to Cincinnati, Portsmouth to Parma and Sandusky to Shadyside – you can’t help but think of guys like Ray Kent.
That was the case at our house until the afternoon when our 14-year-old beagle, Jennie, dashed through the gate of our fenced in back yard at Ponteberry and Armistice Sts., ran up the street and disappeared.
This may be our last summer in your beautiful area. We have loved our many years here but now, quite sadly - we are winding down. We won't be around to visit our friends for meals, or to share our family, or just to cruise around quietly on a beautiful evening and admire the sunset. We added so much beauty and we love to share and shine for your visitors. But…
I longed for home. Summer was fast approaching. Recuperating, I had already missed more than two-thirds of spring, and that was enough. After almost four months of hospitals and nursing homes, I needed a break. I became convinced that home was best. It would speed my recovery better and faster than any nursing home/physical rehabilitation center ever could, regardless of how good they were.
Recently there have been a few events in our city, New Franklin, that remind me just how small town politics go. The first is about a shot dog.
The resuming of classes is a reminder that the opening of a new Springfield High School is just a few years down the road after voters in the district approved a bond levy last spring.
After the first open heart surgery in 1983, where doctors used microscopic sutures to repair the mitral valve's chordae tendenae, I figured I was done with that part of my health and never dreamed I'd be going through it again. But in 2005, that's exactly what happened. The valve broke again, hanging wide open. This time they implanted an artificial bovine valve made from cow tissue.
This could very possibly be my last summer being a kid. And, at 21 years old, that sounds very strange to say but it's the truth. In a couple weeks I will be starting my senior year of college and before I know it, it will be May and I will graduate and have to take that leap into finding a job, a career and starting a new chapter of my life.
How refreshing it is to have a financial director who actually knows what the job needs. Since we in New Franklin have brought such a person to our city, we are beginning to reap the benefits of having the skills of such a person.
For some inexplicable reason I began to worry. Not so much for my health or progress with my physical rehabilitation, but everything started going so well for me. As a matter of fact, too well. And for me, that's far - way too far - out of the norm.
It’s just one very good – and truly unique – story right after the other with the Manchester High School football program.
The news was shocking. It saddened me. Like a dark weather front - it was as if a huge black cloud, signifying inclement weather, was closing in. Father Sam? Income Tax evasion? Hiding money? Embezzlement? Give me a break! What have the Feds been sniffing lately, I wondered.
When longtime Green residents see the intersection at South Arlington Road and State Route 619 for the first time in a while, their jaws probably drop.
The intersection, at which The Suburbanite offices are located, doesn’t look anything like it used to, and will look even more different when all the road construction is completed.
Yes! I am a granny now and I am forced to redefine my definition of grandma. I am not the grandma who was in the car in front of me who was driving 30 miles per hour and stopping every crossroad looking for a particular street.
