Summer's in full swing. The rains, worthy of the deluge in the final chapter of The Grapes of Wrath, finally have abated. Lawns can be mowed. Kids are away at camp. I stare out my office window and sigh. Once again, no summer...
For the first time since Reagan began wrapping up his run, I'm without a job, but I've been finding some perspective in classic cinema.
Some churches have found themselves targets of skepticism, particularly after Independence Day stunts that received media attention.
I've always had a hard time with goodbyes. There's something about separating, and acknowledging that separation, that I've always found sharp and painful.
I am among the first of the video-game generation, the eldest of the button-mashing many who grew up in the digital age.
Kyle Petty has been part of the NASCAR scene since he was born. His grandfather, Lee Petty, won the first Daytona 500 and his father, Richard Petty, is the sport's all-time winner with 200 victories.
Three things from Augusta are part of the national consciousness - the Masters Tournament, James Brown's legacy and Tobacco Road.
Last week, I began my campaign to catalog the top 10 films of each decade of the sound era with favorites from the 1930s. That was tough. The 1940s, as it turns out, was tougher.
Humans fly too much, and it took a volcano to stop us.
For a big-bucks business always eyeing the bottom line, Hollywood surely does have a thing for sticking it to the man.