The school year has begun.
Vinny and Valerie Joy first met at a picnic for singles.
I had never been to South Georgia for vacation, so when my adventure-loving, freelancing friend invited me to accompany her on a press trip, I all but jumped at the chance.
Last Saturday I played my first, and possibly last, game of paintball. After a mid-morning rain shower, a group of young professionals entered the wet paintball course to play a match just as the sun began to burn in all its glory.
A long-time friend recently invited me to breakfast at her house. We ate on her deck, sitting at a table strewn with fresh rose petals and lit with a candle and decorated with fine dishes and a flower.
Being a “Lost” fan from its very first episode six years ago, I prioritized the watching of its finale this past Sunday, arranging my schedule around it, watching part of it at home and most of it at a neighbor’s house where we snacked and enjoyed light banter during the commercial breaks.
My friend Maggie invited me over to last weekend to look at her garden. It was beautiful. Situated in her front yard, it featured an array of interesting rocks, beautiful flowers and small but hopeful shrubs. We sat in the sun for a few minutes taking it all in.
Dating advice today is usually geared toward the young and never-married.
Parents simply amaze me. They give their lives to love, guide, finance and educate their children safely into adulthood.
My parents have just booked tickets to St. Thomas in the beautiful Caribbean.
My uncle, a lover of travel, history and culture once called me a "citizen of the world." I was taken aback, flattered by the phrase.
Lisa (not her real name) had been crying the day that we talked.
You don't have to be written about in a book to be a history maker. Most of us do it every day in small, steady ways. Ordinary citizens make history as they give of themselves to the communities around them.
I was wondering the other day, "Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned shame?" Not the kind that makes a person feel worthless or defective, but the sort of shame that regulates one's behavior.
He admits he's not your ordinary Haitian. Christian Craan, founder and bass player for the local reggae group Milele Roots since 1998, is a son of privilege -- to a degree.