I’ve always thought it would be nice to know more about my family tree.
Over the weekend I was able to use an antique that many of our youth may be unfamiliar with, a VCR.
As I continue to click the keyboard in my acrylic nails, I can’t help but wonder how women who type in their profession maintain a manicure.
Tragedies have struck our area as three families (that I know of) are dealing with horrific moments that no one wants for anyone else.
If you knew former Gazette-Virginian news, sports and all-around science fiction knowing reporter Doug Ford, then you knew of his beloved cat Whiskers.
A coworker cracked a joke this morning about what a turbulent year it has been for me to become editor.
I received a COVID-19 test, and for me, it was as horrible as I could imagine.
I would hate to be in Superintendent Dr. Mark Lineburg’s position these days.
“Man invented language to satisfy his deep need to complain,” is a quote by famed comedian, actress and writer Lily Tomlin, and it’s one I’ll have to agree with.
Sometimes it’s nice just to think back, and being that July 4 weekend is coming up, I can’t help but think of all the ways we’ve celebrated over the years.
It’s hard to take a stance, stick to that stance and make it known.
I remember these days like it was yesterday.
This whole year can be summed up with one sentence for me: what a time to be alive.
Silence is deafening.
Eleven years. That’s how many years it’s been since Diane Brown and her family have seen her sister Hattie Gertrude Brown.
There’s an election on Tuesday.
With Mother’s Day approaching, I’ve done my usual brainstorming of ways to show my mother how much I appreciate her, and I came across this poem titled, “Now that I’m a mother.” Author unknown.
Sometimes I feel like I’m beating a dead horse with COVID-19 this and the coronavirus that.
Stigma, “a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person,” as Oxford Dictionary defines it has been attached to several diseases, socioeconomic status and more over the years — COVID-19 or the coronavirus is no different.
Easter is going to look a little different this year.
Can someone stand in front of a podium on national television and say, “April Fools! Gotcha, Americans. Go back to your regular daily live.”
“Uncharted territory.”
I think a lot people would agree that child’s birthday parties have gotten out of hand.
As everyone sits around their Christmas tree, menorah, kinara or any other holiday symbol with their family this year, keep in mind what’s important – family.
So much can change in a year and has.
Thanksgiving is tomorrow, a time to look at your life and see what all you have to be thankful for.
Don’t worry. That big, bright star in the sky is the sun.
This “new” policy regarding no recording at Halifax County Public Schools isn’t new at all.
“Don’t work for recognition but do work worthy of recognition,” is advice from American author H. Jackson Brown Jr. that we could all take.
The other day as my friend pumped her gas, I heard from inside the car a noise I had become familiar with “gas station TV,” one of the many screens that we constantly have in our face.
Keaton Jones may be a household name at this point, a pseudo celebrity if you will, the latest every day kid to have his five minutes of fame in the spotlight.
We’ve all seen the photos and the jokes of the swarms of people who flood into stores to get that one toy on sale for $9.99 on Black Friday.
More often than ever I’ve seen my work resurface on websites, in brochures and in other areas.
I understand that print journalism and broadcast journalism are two completely different ball games, but with Hurricane Harvey, Hurricane Irma and Hurricane Jose in full force as this column is being written, I can’t help but question the tactics of some broadcast journalists.
This past Saturday was the two-year anniversary of the tragic event that took the lives of two young, vibrant individuals, news reporter Alison Parker and video journalist Adam Ward of WDBJ7.
So maybe if I was naïve, I might would’ve been almost $3,000 richer the other day.
When I was growing up, Sundays meant church, then to granny’s house for a late breakfast, the best breakfast.
If you’re on Facebook or listen to WAKG 103.3, I’m sure you haven’t been able to avoid the chatter or the videos from their recent competition, Sing For the Ring with Eden Jewelry.
I’ve felt like my world was crashing all around me, like I could hardly breathe, as if the unthinkable had happened, that he had hurt me. But even that wasn’t the end of the world.
Spinning its way around the world is a new trend — fidget spinners.
I was like a cat with nine lives once again when I began competing in the Smith Mountain Lake Idol 6 at Heath’s Waterfront Grill last Friday.
The past few weeks have not been very news worthy in my opinion. Nothing has really happened that has inspired conversation within me.
Sometimes it’s nice to do some self-reflection, and sometimes we need an outsider to call us out before we reach the point of examining oneself.
Maybe there’s no right or wrong, black or white, line drawn in the sand answer to handling feelings or relationships.
Being in SML Idol in Huddleston has been one roller coaster ride.
The more I try to make plans, the more they change. Some will say, “it’s God’s will” that something did or didn’t happen; others say, “Things happen for a reason.”
I recently read that 70 percent of all consumer retail-spending takes place after 6 p.m.
I have two small requests: read it all and read it thoroughly.
Just doing my job ma’am. I get it, you don’t want me there, and I’m sorry that these circumstances have brought us both together to the scene of this car accident.
It’s probably in your hand right now as you text your friend or post your latest update to Facebook.
More often than not, I hear whining and complaining about people not being able to get a job, needing a job, how there are no jobs around here, etc.
