Some of the happiest moments of this writer’s life have been sitting on the front porch at his house in Darlington and his Grandmother Dana’s house in New Milford, Conn. It’s too bad front porches were replaced, for the most part, by radios and TVs in the living rooms.
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The writer was watching the Public Broadcasting System’s (PBS) NewsHour on TV last week when they brought anchor Jeffrey Brown on to talk about eating insects. The NewsHour sent correspondent Spencer Michaels to San Francisco to get the scoop.
This columnist grew up with the Darlington Raceway. He was 5 years old when it held its first race in 1950. But it wasn’t until around 1957 that he got interested in racing. That was the year his (my) favorite driver of all time, Lee Petty, drove a 1957 Oldsmobile.
We see where the Lamar Civitans honored one of Lamar’s finest, Faye Fields Griffin, with the Community Service Award at the annual Silver Fox Tournament of Champions April 26 at Governor’s Run Country Club.
FLORENCE -- The timeworn writer stumbled across memories of 50 years ago while looking up a story on the 1962 Rebel 300 Stock Car race.
We received an email about May 13 being St. Christopher Sunday in Episcopal churches in this diocese. St. Christopher is a summer camp on Seabrook Island that any Episcopalian worth his or her salt has heard of or gone to.
The writer took a rare road trip to Beaufort last weekend for the wedding of Lindsey Simpson of Beaufort and Lee Wolansky of Marion. They were married in historic St. Helena’s Episcopal Church.
The columnist has written about his 1966 Rock-Ola jukebox before. It was partly restored a year ago by an outfit in St. Louis.
The writer grew up before clothes dryers became a household item. He remembers clothes being washed and then dried on clotheslines that were strung up in our backyard.
The thought of the venerable J.C. Daniel Auditorium being condemned and possibly torn down is anathema to this writer, although the great old building is kind of a mess.
National Public Radio recently bemoaned the demise of manual-transmission cars, noting that although they are more fun to drive than automatics, they account for less than 10 percent of vehicles sold.
Spring is supposed to signal a new beginning, an outlet from the doldrums of winter. The writer wants to see everybody dressed comfortably at the Morning News, especially the females.
The writer would like to sincerely thank all of the readers who read and commented on his Wednesday column about his late son, Payson. It wasn’t an easy column to write, but the responses have buoyed my spirits, which tend to sag this time of year.
The call awakened me about 1:30 a.m. on March 30, 2007, not quite five years ago today. It was from a highway patrolwoman. She said my son Payson had wrecked his Jeep Wrangler and if I got over to the scene of the crash in the next 15 minutes, she wouldn’t take him to jail.
The writer was looking for something in an old icebox that has become a storage bin at his humble abode. It had been quite awhile since he opened the icebox.
The perils of drinking too much have come back to haunt a man on a cruise ship from Mexico to Tampa and a North Carolina woman visiting Myrtle Beach.
Benh Zeitlin has made his directional debut at the Sundance Film Festival with “Beasts of the Southern Wild,” which was shot along the fringes of Louisiana and evokes an endangered way of life.
Matthew Pridgen told his amazing, real life story of drugs and attempted suicide Sunday in Darlington, S.C.
The humble writer through the years has tried to improve his image by wearing contact lens. For the most part, he’s been unsuccessful.
The writer had himself a good time last Saturday at the Pee Dee Land Trust’s annual Oyster Roast at Hobcaw Barony just outside Georgetown. He had an even better time Saturday night when he took some friends out to eat.
The writer was having problems with his landline last week. The corded telephone would ring, but the display was blank. Meanwhile, the two satellite telephones that came with the main telephone wouldn’t ring and the lines were dead.
The late great Dizzy Dean used to sing the indelible words from the “Wasbash Cannonball” on the “Baseball Game of the Week” in those lazy, hazy, crazy days of the 1960s.
The writer’s son, Brenton, has been dating a pretty girl for five years named Brittni Elvington. Brittni is from Florence.
Columnist Dwight Dana's search of his old wallets produces some interesting info
A 1960's music fest proved more interesting than the Super Bowl
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