To the Editor:
I went 10 weeks of the football season without getting wet.
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.