This little poem is about “The Great War, 1914-1918,” the war to end all wars. Well, that didn’t work out, but this poem still gives me goosebumps.
“A bowl of oatmeal tried to stare me down—and won.” —John Prine
Holly Springs was stirring last week after a meeting at city hall about downtown revitalization.
• This is the first winter in four or five years that I’ve been able to enjoy heat.
“It’s frankly disgusting the way the press is able to write whatever they want to write, and people should look into it.”—Every authoritarian leader, this one the President