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Columns

  • Leaving the post-vacation depression zone

    Like me, you’ve been on this road before, no doubt.

    It’s the road home after you’ve been on a vacation, weekend getaway or retreat. And as that idyllic place - the lake, beach, cabin in the woods or special hotel - begins slowly to recede in your rearview mirror, you want to screech your breaks to a halt, turn around and somehow grab your vacation spot and take it with you.  

  • Senior Life: Summertime heat precautions for seniors

    Ted loves to spend long hours working in his garden. He’s worked outside all of his life; first on the family farm helping with the crops, and then in his own garden working to grow food for his family. His flower garden is the envy of the neighborhood. Ted often has said the heat and humidity typical to Kentucky doesn’t bother him.

  • Don't cry over hot and dry conditions

    Any one else remember when grass was green and didn’t crunch?

    After weeks of dry conditions and now days of stiffling, triple-digit high temperatures, yards everywhere have a hazy brown look. For those of us who dispair as summer days disappear to the continual burden of yard care, that’s the sole silver lining in the cloudless skies.

    For yard and garden devotees, don’t shed any tears for next month’s water bill. That only will contribute to the potential for dehydration.

  • How would you live if you only had 21 days?

    This is the way the world ends
    Not with a bang but with a whimper.

    T.S. Eliot, The Hollow Men (1925)

    If you knew you had exactly 21 days left on this earth, how would you spend your time? Would you reconnect with family and friends? Would you ask forgiveness from someone? Would you tell someone what a despicable person they’ve been to you?

  • Taking away information to inconvenience a few low-life thieves

     In an official police statement, the unknown people who burglarized a Clarkson home while the family was away at a funeral were described as “low-lifes.”

    That phrase may not appropriately categorize the unfeeling callousness necessary to victimize people while they are busy burying a beloved child. What’s lower than low?

  • Memories of a brother taken too soon

     By BURT LINDSEY

    The first rich memory I have of my brother is him coming home from the Army in 1964. He was 20 and I was 13, a teenager looking up to his big brother.

    Twenty-eight years later, my brother was dead at a too young 48.

    A lot happened in those years. You see Willie was an alcoholic. I guess that’s what eventually killed him, in a roundabout way.

  • Three strikes and you’re out, EPA

    The crowd that traveled to recent public hearings in Frankfort and Pikeville for showdowns with the visiting Environmental Protection Agency overwhelmingly supported the home-team coal miners.

    The home team was determined to resist the EPA’s assault on coal and Kentuckians’ right to mine it. They aimed their “pitches” specifically at an injustice perpetrated two years ago when the EPA unilaterally rejected 36 state-approved coal-mining permits and threatened more than 70,000 industry jobs.

  • How should the winners govern?

    When I first went to Washington in the 1960s as a novice congressman, the Democratic Party was clearly in control. It held the White House and enjoyed big majorities in both houses of Congress.

  • Facing life with Bible and newspaper in hand

    Pick it up and read it. No, I don’t mean the Bible, although I read it every day.

    But for now, I’m referring to the newspaper.

    Despite rumors of its demise, the newspaper is surviving and in some instances, thriving.

    I know that’s reading the paper is the exception and not the norm. According to a 2010 Harris Poll, 1 in 10 American adults say they never read a daily newspaper and only 2 of 5 read a daily newspaper, either online or in print.

  • New road creates new perspectives

    Standing on the fresh pavement of the Ky. 313 extension awaiting a dedication ceremony Wednesday, the new road directed my mind to a distant past.

    As the summer sun beat down, the smell of hot asphalt became obvious. That's the odor of opportunity and it triggered memories.

    Just about a mile from the dedication site is the plot of ground where I grew up. On many similar summer days a lifetime ago, the same scent of blacktop filled the air.