The network morning shows only have news for about the first 30 minutes. From that point on they launch into everything from how to cure a hangnail to picking a couple to have a wedding on a New York street corner.
Two score and eight years ago, a fine doctor and my namesake, Thomas Harris, debuted me at the Georgia Baptist Hospital.
The name of Earle Hagen may not ring a bell, but you more than likely know his music.
The old girl died in a fire in February. We finally buried her this week. She was laid to rest in a landfill.
My earliest business venture was operating a shoe-shine box in Johnny O'Kelly's barber shop in Social Circle. It was two-chair shop with Johnny and Mr. Aub McClain.
Each week, I write this column by Thursday around noon. Newspapers have deadlines and I just can't send this out on the information superhighway at the last minute.
Maj. Kevin Jarrard will be spending this Christmas in his second tour in Iraq with Lima Company, 3rd Battalion, 23rd Marines, a Marine Corps Reserve unit headquartered in Montgomery, Ala.
The phone rang the other day and on the other end of the line was none other than Big Buddy.
Years ago, when I was working in television, we were just getting into electronic graphics. We had a little gizmo that would flash someone's name up on the screen at the directed time.
We still made use of slides. A guy would make slides of a reporter's name and the call letters and channel number of the station using a hot-type press with white letters on a black poster board.
Mama was never one to pass up a good roadside junk pile. She had a station wagon and could load up an old lawn mower or a broken lamp in no time.
I sometimes marvel that I made it through childhood without a bike helmet, safety goggles or the evaluation of my neighborhood by the Consumer Products Safety Commission.
I like advertising.
Thanksgiving Day in 1995 was a bit different.
My brother and his family were elsewhere, my daughter was with her mother and it was just me and Mama.
Have you ever known people who just looked their part in life?
Come January, I've been reporting on Zell Miller for 33 years. I was 14 and somehow asked for and was issued media credentials for the inauguration of Gov. George Busbee and Lt. Gov. Zell Miller.
Sometimes, when I gripe about slow computers or cellphones that don't do what they are supposed to do, I think about how far we have come in my lifetime.
When I was a kid in Social Circle, our town doctor used to make an ice sculpture of sorts when it got really cold.
In an earlier time, we used to celebrate the birthdays of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln in February. Now, we have combined them into one day to honor all presidents of the United States.
Back in the days before the interstate highway system would take you where you needed to go, we used to take a cross-country route to Jekyll Island or to visit family in Jacksonville, Fla.
Forecasting the weather is a job I wouldn't want. If you predict rain and it doesn't, folks chuckle and go on their way. If you predict a blizzard and it doesn't happen, folks will stop just short of calling for a lynch mob.
Somewhere along the way, we will explain to future generations how gasoline once cost about 35 cents a gallon and how someone would pump it for you, check your tires and oil and wipe off your windshield.
I remember the night Martin Luther King Jr. was killed.
Funeral and wedding songs are often the subject of much discussion, particularly after the event.
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