Opinions

I wonder how hot it is on Mercury in the summertime. Mercury, as you know, is the closest planet to the sun and therefore the hottest. The Deep South, as you know, comes right between it and Venus giving us the number two status in the solar system for heat production. Or so it seems, in the summertime. I remember the summers of my childhood 40 years ago. The heat was different in the 1960s--it was everywhere. You had little or no air conditioning with which to compare the outside air, so you merely looked for the coolest place outside. I can tell you where it was: under the mimosa trees in the morning, in the back bedroom which was shaded by magnolias at noon, in the cool spray of sprinklers in mid-afternoon and under the sheltered carport before suppertime.

When I look back to the Fourth of July during my earliest years, it wasn’t a party. There were no computer-generated displays of fireworks.

Patriotism has been exploding on the world scene over the past month, and while I don’t care much for soccer, the spirit of the millions who’ve travelled to the USA has been nothing short of inspiring. I find myself watching games daily and cheering for every goal. TheWorldCuphad48teamsqualifytoplaythreematches each. The bottom 16 have now been sent home. Each day a few more win and advance while those who come up short are knocked out. Besides the USA, my favorites are chosen on a whim. Whoever scores goes nuts and celebrates like the next contestant on the Price is Right. Of course, the zealots of the scoring country go bananas, and the cameras zoom in to witness the costumed maniacs. What’s not to like?

I know it wasn’t my first glass of lemonade, but it was the first one I remember. And it was served in a real glass. When summer’s heat descends upon us, I think about that glass of lemonade. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. It was served in the kitchen of a friend’s home in Forest Home, Ala. That’s such a pleasant name for any community: Forest Home. It’s as if all the little Walt Disney animals should scamper there to live, in Forest Home. The Halls lived there and killed the little animals for supper. Yes, they were a curious family of fine people about whom a book could be written in three easy sittings. But today I’ll shoot for a few paragraphs about nothing but lemonade.

Who would’ve ever thought that cleaning up the 2,000-footlong reflecting pool that connects the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument would go from stagnant-to-sparking and then suspiciously return to a massive algae bloom days later?

I’ve heard, you should never trust a person who doesn’t like dogs or children. But what about trusting people that dogs or children don’t like? Unfortunately, we often discover who not to trust by trusting them in the first place. It has been said there are only three things who always tell the truth - intoxicated people, children and leggings. So, who can we trust? Where can the truth be found? Thanks to the American media, who you can believe to bring the truth is often known by which newspaper, magazine, radio or TV network is the source. It’s why I seldom, if ever, watch network or cable news. In the 1960’s and 1970’s, CBS news journalist Walter Cronkite was known as “the most trusted man in America.” He was something else too, respected.

As I stood in line, outside a bathroom at a restaurant in a nearby coastal town, I was surrounded by the clamor of young girls, accompanied by two mothers. Then a man walked up.

I'll Tell You What One of life’s built in moments to savor is often called the calm after the storm. We have all had countless opportunities to savor the peaceful and quiet time that comes after a thunderstorm or argument.

Weekly Muddle The bird’s name was Perry Como. He belonged to a little red-headed girl in Central Florida who loved him dearly.

When someone tells you who they are, believe them. A person who repeatedly says negative things about their job, employer or their situation, yet doesn’t follow through with their threats or warnings, don’t go to sleep on them.