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My one and only high school sex education class
In 1958, during my sophomore year at Tullahoma (TN) High School, all the boys in every class were ordered to the gymnasium bleachers with the male teachers for a sex education talk by a local physician, Dr. Ralph Brickell. The girls were sequestered in the auditorium with the female teachers for a similar talk by…
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Letting go of fear, ill will, and my trusty six-gun–reposted
Well, they didn’t pry it out of my cold, dead hands. But my only remaining firearm has just left the premises. Having grown up and lived in the South I’ve owned shotguns, .22 rifles, and an assortment of handguns. But over the years, my collection had dwindled to one old revolver that I kept in…
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Adult behavior fosters youth violence–December 15, 1999
Here’s a commentary about violence in our nation that I wrote for the Asheville Citizen-Times late in 1999 that seems unfortunately appropriate for these times. *** I take issue with your December 7 editorial “Latest school shooting should redouble efforts for solutions” in which you state that what has…
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My thoughts on the 2016 presidential election
Last evening Shonnie, Gracelyn and I were in the kitchen cooking dinner and listening to This Land is Your Land: Songs of Freedom. Buffy Sainte-Marie and her rendition of “The Universal Soldier,” Bob Dylan and Joan Baez crooning “With God on Our Side,” Cisco Houston singing “This Land is Your Land,” and more. And I…
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Spanking gets results . . . just not those you’re likely to desire.
My great-grandmother, Mae McCarthy (better known as Ma), who enjoyed dipping snuff and preferred another layer of body powder to regular bathing, had a Victorian attitude when it came to disciplining children. On a warm afternoon in June when I was four, I watched with dismay as Ma instructed Mom in how to choose a…
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My cherished friend Sharon Parish
My personal remembrance of my cherished friend Sharon Parish, who passed away ten years ago. I wrote this for her daughter Lily Parish’s “Whispers,” a collection of stories about the profound uniqueness of her Mom written by those of us whose lives she so deeply touched. I first met Sharon Parish at Way of a…









