Serving Hohenwald, Lewis County Tennessee Since 1898
Serving Hohenwald, Lewis County Tennessee Since 1898
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Did you get your copy of “Queen Elizabeth II: Reign in Pictures” in time for Her Majesty’s Platinum Jubilee ceremonies? As a bookazine fanatic, I certainly did. Beg pardon? What’s a bookazine, you ask? (I promise I am merely making educated guesses about your inquiries. I do not have the ability to read your mind. And neither does that new co-worker you’ve been undressing with your eyes. But I digress.) Bookazines combine the permanence of a book with the vivid images, pithy text and exciting la...
Hollywood makes iconic catch phrases seem easy. Whether it’s McGarrett’s “Book ‘em, Danno” or Vizzini’s “Inconceivable!” in “The Princess Bride,” we take them for granted. But there is a dismaying amount of trial and error behind the relative handful of utterances that fully capture the public consciousness. For example, the magisterial “Make it so” of Captain Jean-Luc Picard in the “Star Trek” universe. Early versions of Picard’s command included “That’s what SHE said,” “Pretty please with a...
So I can spend more time with my family, I am turning this week’s column over to a bright fourth-grade student from an unnamed American small town. Hi. My name is Liam. My history teacher, Mr. Burkhalter, assigned us to write a 500-word essay about lack of public appreciation for the significance of Memorial Day. My grandpa suggested titling the essay “They’ve fallen, and our enthusiasm can’t get up.” Grandpa says a LOT of things that make us check his pill box. Mr. Burkhalter, whom you may reca...
“I can’t HEEAARR you!” – Sgt. Vincent Carter on “Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C.” You may recall that -- in October of 2019-- I wrote a column denouncing the proliferation of confusing, dimly lit scenes in movies and TV shows. Now it’s time to unload on the audio aspect of the media. Remember when Hollywood gave us effervescent heroes and scenery-chewing villains with crisp diction? Now many actors/characters are so low-pitched, understated and listless that their threats devolve into, “You’ll get to watch...
Honest, I’m going to write a book chockful of random thoughts someday (my more serious book about religion is already available on Amazon), but deadline pressures keep forcing me to cannibalize my ideas for this column instead. For instance, do you get confused by the (microscopic and/or smeared) “sell by” and “best if used by” labels on products? “Best if used by November 2022.” “Best if used by July 2023.” Considering the sodium and sugar content in most of the products, maybe the labels...
Millions of young women dream of being honored on Mother’s Day. Millions of others know in their hearts that they don’t want to have children, or at least not on someone else’s timetable. Many in both groups run the risk of someday facing an unplanned, unwanted pregnancy. Society assures us these women always had only three choices: get an abortion, endure 18 years of servitude or go through an emotionally wrenching adoption. There is another option for these women (and their “lovers”): be proac...
The concept of “parking” loses most of its mystique as you get past the giddy days of a freshly minted driver’s license and shoulder the responsibilities of adulthood. Where “parking” once meant steamy windows at Inspiration Point, it comes to mean drudgery, unpleasant surprises and keeping your “Spidey sense” in overdrive while navigating. When I googled “I hate parking lots,” a high percentage of the conversational threads focused primarily on drivers’ concerns for their pristine vehicles ...
“But I’ll keep workin’/As long as my two hands are fit to use…” – Merle Haggard I haven’t run away and joined the circus, but I am nearing the age when a financial safety net admittedly has the allure of the Sirens of Greek mythology. Yes, before long, yours truly COULD conceivably abandon the rat race and apply for early Social Security benefits. I would have to adjust to the reduced income very delicately. If I restricted my “riotous” lifestyle any further, it would be SIX FEET UNDER. But w...
If you could be the proverbial “fly on the wall,” what Biblical event would you most like to witness? I realize some of you don’t accept the Bible in the first place. But if you do believe it, what scene would you love to see unfold before your eyes? I imagine most people would go the Cecil B. DeMille route. They would choose something spectacular, such as the Israelites passing through the Red Sea, Noah’s ark riding out the Flood or Daniel remaining faithful in the lions’ den. Me? I would lov...
After the Academy Awards incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock, I started wondering how many of my gentle readers have resorted to physical violence in their adult life. In 1983 a co-worker sucker-punched me at the end of second shift and in 1999 (at a different workplace) a co-worker shoved me to the ground; but so far, I haven’t been in any two-way fights since childhood. (Some folks play tennis. Some folks play cornhole. Some folks play “the long game.” Bwahahahaha…) But what about y...
If you have a habit of forgetting names as soon as you’re introduced, join the club. In all fairness, I have a mind like a steel trap when it comes to appointments, debts and trivia; it’s just that names tend to chew their leg off in order to escape. Bless his heart, my son Gideon is even worse. We’ll be out shopping, and some peer will shout a hearty, “Hi, Gideon!” It may be someone who bullied him through six years of school or the person who saved his life three times with the Heimlich...
A tiny portion of my “day job” at a farm-and-home cooperative involves writing radio commercials and on-hold phone messages. More often than I like to admit, I get stuck for a closing zinger and settle for trite sentiments, such as “Let our friendly staff help make this your best hunting season/New Year/spring ever!!” (Note to self: next spring, remember to try something dignified like “Please, please make your money quit hibernating!”) But I really do hope my readers enjoy the best spring ever....
A handful of longtime readers may remember when I announced that “baby boy Tyree” was on his way. Time flies. My only child Gideon recently celebrated his 18th birthday. Ah, 18: an unrefrigerated casserole of freedoms, responsibilities, hopes, fears and life-or-death decisions. My wife and I have been dribbling out bits of school-of-hard-knocks advice for Gideon all along, so I don’t have any showstopping pronouncements to share with him this week; but I will seize upon Gideon’s milesto...
I despise airing my dirty laundry in public, but I’ll make an exception for kvetching about my clean laundry. I have primary responsibility for my family’s laundry. Fair enough. I realize I should be grateful that I am spared the drudgery of the old wringer washer or beating garments against river rocks; but because of various aggravations, my thoughts tend to be less “ring around the collar” than “hands around somebody’s throat.” It’s not just the cliché of vanishing sock mates or the une...
Valentine’s Day and other time-sensitive topics delayed my writing about this, but a few weeks ago marked the 50th anniversary of the death of my grandfather, Carl Spencer Tyree. I’m juggling a lot of plates, but very few days go by that I don’t think of “Paw.” “Ornery,” “opinionated,” “contrary” and “irascible” are some of the words people have used to describe him over the years; but I choose to take a more nuanced look at the forces that shaped him. Both of his grandfathers fought for the Con...
Yes, receipts do seem to breed like rabbits in my poor overstuffed-with-credit-cards-and-gift-cards-and-loyalty-cards-and-hastily-scribbled-notes wallet. But that’s my personal problem to sort through at home in my quieter moments. That’s why I’m deeply disturbed by the recent phenomenon of retail clerks putting me on the spot with some variation of “Do you want your receipt?” or “Would you like your receipt?” Snap judgment time! I can understand “Would you prefer the receipt in the bag?” or “W...
I dare you to google news about Valentine’s Day. Faster than you can say “Romeo and Juliet,” you’ll be inundated with results for “romantic getaways.” Whether the story is touting a single night on the town or an extended trip, you’ll find an abundance of adjectives such as “adventurous,” “quaint,” “unconventional,” “sun-soaked” and “luxurious.” With such verbiage, you don’t know whether to expect a king-size bed or a “bed of locally sourced Romaine lettuce cradling a generous serving of succul...
Many of us in the workforce find ourselves performing the condensed “sprint” version of the marathon endured by hapless soccer moms. Yes, now that my wife is working full-time and meeting her at home for lunch is not an option, I am spending a lot of noon-ish hours juggling a quick meal and rapidly multiplying errands. The old-timey dinner bell once soothed the soul by announcing the arrival of a significant respite; but now the clanging would merely make modern Americans realize, “I forgo...
I’m not seeking sympathy, but I’m writing this on the eve of my annual physical exam. Don’t infer that I’m bragging about a commendable lifelong habit. By “annual,” I mean “I’ve (almost) done it two years in a row.” And by “physical,” I mean, if I had my druthers, I’d suggest, “Hey, doc, when I turn my head and cough, how about standing over there in the corner and reading my aura?” Before my renewed dedication in the last couple of years, I could always make an excuse for kicking the can...
Fact: families take many forms. Grandparents rear grandchildren. Never-married siblings share the ancestral homeplace until death. High school sweethearts get married in a fever but gradually drift apart. BFFs move in together for emotional/financial support after spouses die. But such situations develop organically, one at a time. No one tries to make a “thang” of them. Not so with the trendy lifestyle choice glamorized in a recent “USA Today” story. Whether you call it “platonic marriages” or...
A YouTube video magically transported me back to what I was watching on Thursday, January 13, 1972. The clip from NBC’s red-hot “Flip Wilson Show” features Flip as a standup comedian being heckled unmercifully by guest Redd Foxx. At the end of the segment, Flip broke character to announce that Foxx would be starring in a new sitcom called “Sanford and Son,” beginning the very next night. I vividly remember the plug! Unfortunately, I somehow missed that first episode; but I laughed myself si...
Perhaps one reason I never get invited to New Year’s Eve parties is that I tend to overanalyze things. Take Baby New Year (a.k.a. “Bundle of White Male Joy”), for instance. Society’s reliance on this iconic tyke in editorial cartoons, greeting cards and advertising campaigns causes me to lose more sleep than the ball drop in Times Square. Most people blithely accept a half-naked, curfew-deprived newborn galivanting about the countryside unchaperoned; but I see it as one more troubling repercu...
I distinctly remember what I ate for supper on Christmas Eve 50 years ago. Not the entrée perhaps, but certainly the vegetable. My mother served stewed potatoes (“potato slopters,” as she dubbed them). I remember the potatoes because I was passionately reading my newly purchased 25-cent comic book (“Justice League of America” Vol. 1 #96, featuring the JLA versus Starbreaker the Cosmic Vampire) at the dining room table and splashed the food all over it. That damaged comic book still has a place...
Folks are tied up in knots over tying the knot. Just when we thought marriage was a dying institution, the Wall Street Journal cites statistics showing there is a huge pent-up demand for weddings. Because of COVID-19 restrictions, the backlog of ceremonies stretches well into 2024. Competition for venues, accessories and services has generated unprecedented stress. Yes, the wedding industry faces the same supply-chain woes as other businesses. Concerns about merchandise stranded offshore...
My access to news narrowed dramatically when I was 10 years old. My mother’s boss passed away, so I no longer got to peruse his morning paper. And, despite my protestations about prying the funnies from my cold, ink-stained fingers, family budget cuts meant my father could no longer splurge on the EVENING paper. I still had the local gossip grapevine, radio newscasts and TV anchor David Brinkley; but cutting back to just the Sunday edition of print journalism left a vexing information void d...
