As a child growing up in Ashdown, Arkansas, we had two main grocery stores. Shur-Way and Piggly Wiggly. Or as my dad called it, “the Hoggly Woggly.”

And a trip to the store was like each TV commercial had come to life.

Advertising agencies at the time were very good at what they did. Think about how much artful effort goes into tying elves to cookies, a talking fish to tuna, and a tiger to sugar-drenched corn flakes.

And then convincing kids to ...

My wife and I are scheduled for an Alaskan cruise in the fall. By all accounts, it’s something to which we should look forward.

I’ve been told the same thing about other trips, including a Vegas excursion that included a stay at a strip motel that still had beds that took quarters.

Unfortunately, my wife held little interest for a strip motel with quarter-driven beds, so that’s an experience still to be had.

That said, the Alaskan cruise seems to hold more promise.

Except ...

It isn’t fair that some people never seem to age. Or that others age early.

We all had that one kid in our class who had a baby face when we were children, and they still do.

Then, there was the kid in the class who appeared to be in the 16th grade from the third grade on. The beard and mustache is what always threw people off.

And the kid who looked young all the way from when they were young, up ...

Recently, I saw something I haven’t seen in many years. A young man driving a car he was fixing up.

It was an older Mustang. By older I mean a 90’s model.

The car had spots of primer, there were a few dents, and the exhaust system appeared to be loose.

But this young man was driving with the top down, smiling as he went.

It took me back 50 years.

My first car was a Mustang. A 1966 model; white with red interior. The ...

When I was a kid, I had to sneak around if I wanted to eat certain things.

Now that I’m an adult and in charge, I still have to sneak around if I want to eat certain things.

I miss the days when no one knew anything about gluten, trans fats, cholesterol, carbohydrates, or anything else that prevented us from enjoying our food.

Every day for breakfast, my grandparents’ generation ate biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage, eggs, butter and jelly.

They washed it down ...

When this newspaper column began in 2014, my wife asked me a question.

Wife: “How long do you intend to write this?”

Me: “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll write 500 of them and then hang it up.

This is number 500.

Isn’t it funny how you wind up where you are? You do what you do when most of the time you never intended to be doing it in the first place?

That’s the case for me.

My first connection to print media was ...

Kids do stupid things. I have the mark to prove it.

In 1972, I was sitting in class at CD Franks Elementary in Ashdown, Arkansas, when I did or said something that riled Sonja Yates. I don’t recall what I did or said, but it must’ve been provocative.

Her response was to bury the end of her pencil in my elbow.

The mark, over a half-century later, is still there.

When I mentioned to a group of folks that I had a pencil mark ...

There were things my dad wanted that I was able to help him get.

Including autographs from Carl Perkins and James Doohan (Scotty from Star Trek), tickets to see Lewis Grizzard, and a golf cart.

But one thing he really wanted that I couldn’t get for him was information on who he was. Who we are.

Our ancestry.

Before he passed, I purchased memberships for him and my mother with one of the online DNA companies.

My mom’s side of the family paid in dividends, ...

Men have man caves because they want the room they had as a kid back.

They also spend the rest of their days trying to find the recipes of their favorite childhood dishes.

The ones like their mom used to make.

Just about everyone’s mom in Ashdown, Arkansas, had a recipe for pot roast. Some tasted close to the same, regardless of which buddy invited you over.

But others were completely unique and amazing. My mom’s was one of them.

Before automatic timers, ovens that ...

He was crossing the road. Over and over. I was surprised someone hadn’t hit him with their car. I was also surprised the coyotes hadn’t gotten him.

It was 9 o’clock at night and according to the residents of the small strip of country road, he’d been out there for a couple of hours. Someone had dumped him before dark.

I spent 45 minutes, in the dark, trying to catch him. But my repeated calls to him fell on deaf ears. Literally.

Turned ...