Since you’re holding (probly even readin’?) the paper, I expect you’ve noticed the new and improved “look, layout and size”.

 I always thought the Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme was a pretty cool car. Especially the style of the ones made in the mid-1980s. GM not only quit making that particular model, sadly they quit making the entire Oldsmobile line a few years back. After a hundred years, a sorry end to a once great automobile brand. I still think it was a mistake on GMs part. Then again, not enough people bought one.

 I’m still not real sure where I stand on the whole issue of drilling for gas here in my own back yard.  Actually not “in” my back yard, it’s not big enough.

 Browsin’ a story in the papers the other day set me to contemplating anew, some things I’d cogitated on for years. Couple other things subsequently elbowed their way into my consciousness as well.

 I hope Not  too late to be resolute.
 If you read this column regularly you know I’m not much on new years resolutions.

 I kept looking out through the frost-covered windows. Across the big meadow I couldn’t make out the stonewall on the far side. Grandma laughing, had told me if that wall went under, Santa might have trouble getting up home this year. “Up home” was what everyone called the old family farmstead. I didn’t see where it was “up”? The rolling hills seemed more level than up to me. A lad, I didn’t realize from every direction you’d climb long hills up to this rolling plateau. The snow kept falling, snowdrifts getting higher each passing hour.

 She looked so stern, grim even, as she stepped through the opening between the velvet roped posts. Moving slowly toward him from her spot at the head of the long line, even her gait seemed unsure as she approached. Stopping finally just below where he was seated on the sparkling, raised dais, she glanced furtively up at him, then quickly back down to a spot just in front of her toes.

 I’ve been down this road before. And yes, I’ve dragged you along with me once or twice. But I’m gonna do it again.

Which is more dangerous?
More specifically, which is more dangerous to you and me? Which has the potential to cause more damage to America?

 We’ve all heard that line so many times. The variations are numerous; Would it kill you...? It might kill you...? You act like it would kill you...?

 (Dear readers, forgive this repeat column. Hope to be live again next week, Cal)

 What a pleasant surprise it had been when young Jimmy, who mowed the grass around the old apartment building, stopped out front with his father this morning. He’d said they’d pick her and Grace up at eleven sharp and they did. The big automobile was warm inside and the soft leather seats were an unexpected pleasure she’d never felt driving her old sedan. How she missed that old car.

 Like a lot of you folks? It just fries my butt when I call some business and get a machine.
 Right away that surreal computer generated voice starts in asking me what language I’d like? As if I’m that one person in 30 or 40 million (?) calling from outside the country? Needin’ to speak swahili or klingon or something?

 There are lots of jobs that can be adequately performed by the guys listed above, right? Oh, and just to remain (?) politically correct, that includes Mary, Jane or Juanita too.
 But the truth is, there are a lot of Tom, Dick or H..., (well you get it) who can’t  do some jobs, adequately or otherwise.

 Sounds like that old Ricky Nelson song? But that’s not todays story.

 By now most folks from the area have driven up and down the (new and improved) one-way Main and Church streets.