Wednesday, December 7, 2016
     

Columns

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Scrooge here.

Bah. Humbug.

Just thought you’d like to know there are only 26 more shopping days until Christmas.

I wanted to touch base with all you Happy Shoppers. I want to know what you’re drinking.

If anyone would have ever told me that there would come a day I would dread Christmas shopping, I would have said your Christmas bulbs weren’t screwed in tight.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

When my young grandchildren were asked to say grace while I was visiting, their idea of giving thanks consisted of seven hurried words: Thank you God for our food, amen.

I think each child had a contest to see who could say it the fastest.

I really hoped for more, at least at Thanksgiving, but I understood.

I understood that gratitude is something that grows with age. I also understood that most youngsters fail to appreciate the basic good things in their life because it’s not something they think about.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

Years ago I had a conversation with a heroin addict that I will never forget.

It happened when I was at a drug rehab facility in Wind Gap doing an in-depth story on heroin addiction.

The facilitator of a group meeting asked participants if I could listen, provided I promised not to put any real names in the newspaper. They were willing and candid throughout the session.

But after I sat listening to their stories for a while, one young man turned to me and asked if I was addicted.

“Not to a drug,” I told him. “Just to food.”

Saturday, October 10, 2015

The photogenic scenes of the fall season are upon us.

For many of us, fall represents a beautiful time of year, perhaps the most serene from an aesthetic point of view.

There is just so much to see, and so much to do, that it seems as though there is never a dull moment.

Take, for example, the Tamaqua Historical Society, which on Sunday will present its 31st Annual Tamaqua Heritage Festival from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. in downtown Tamaqua.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

By PATTIE MIHALIK

newsgirlcomcast.net

When I was a kid, I lived for summer. Couldn't get enough of those warm, languid days filled with fun in the sun.

Now that I'm a big kid, nothing has changed. I still wait with great anticipation for the sultry, summer days I love.

I still lap up every delicious moment of summer, wishing it would last all year.

I like the fact that I live in Florida where we have a joke about our four seasons: Feels like Summer, Almost Summer, Steamy Summer and Still Summer.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

A bride of two weeks sends a group email thanking all who attended her wedding and for giving her and her new husband gifts that averaged $200 each. A high school student flips a "thanks a lot" to her teacher who just wrote her a two-page letter of recommendation. Then she scoots down the hall to another teacher to get another letter. A graduating college student thanks no one for her monetary gifts and sends no notes, but when her guests leave her party, her mother says, "Thanks for coming."

To the bride, to the student, and to the graduate, I say, thanks for nothing.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

The year is 1945. We lived at 202 E. Hazard St., Summit Hill: At age 6, I quietly picked up our home phone and listened to the party-line conversation between my teenage neighbor and her boyfriend.

When she made some gooey, sappy and lovesick comment to him, I couldn't help myself and stifled a laugh.

"Bruce, GET OFF THE PHONE!!!" she ordered. "Yeah, you little creep," the boyfriend chimed in, "Get off the phone."

I did. Obviously, this was not the first time I had listened in. In retrospect, I believe this was my introduction into sex education.

Saturday, August 15, 2015

By DEN MCLAUGHLIN

dmclaughlin@tnonline.com

As you know I like to use this space to share some humor I received from friends.

The following was sent to me recently and I think you'll find it humorous.

It's called: HOW TO START A FIGHT

One year, I decided to buy my mother-in-law a cemetery plot as a Christmas gift. The next year, I didn't buy her a gift. When she asked me why, I replied, "Well, you still haven't used the gift I bought you last year!"

And that's how the fight started ...

Saturday, August 8, 2015

I waited long for this day. One and one-half years.

Yet it's a day nobody would want.

Here I am standing close to him, nearly within arm's reach.

But a district attorney is positioned between us and five sheriff deputies just a step away.

Convicted killer Anthony Heath is tall and lanky, round-shouldered with poor posture.

I'm surprised to see he's wearing a purple shirt, street clothes. His hands are shackled to his belt.

I glare at him. He looks back at me with vacuous eyes.

There's nothing there.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

By PATTIE MIHALIK

newsgirlcomcast.net

The Wall Street Journal ran a recent story that tickled me.

Even the headline would get your attention: First date in a nursing home.

The articles went on to detail an innovative dating service at Hebrew Nursing Home in Riverdale, New York.

Residents in their 70s, 80s and even 90s are going on dates again. The nursing home provides opportunities for men and women to meet at the home's riverside café.

If they hit it off, they can arrange their own future outings.