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Columns

  • “FOOD” for thought


    I know that fall has officially arrived on the farm when the farmer’s pants are covered with stick tights from belt to hem. 

    After the laundry, shredded cockleburrs surface in the most unexpected places, such as underwear and sheets, in spite of diligent prewash searches.  All the resident wildlife is moving to shelter to survive the coming winter; the annual invasion of field mice, crickets, and spiders into the house is well underway.  

  • Thin Within


    Sometimes I love to sit down and write silly little stories and hope that I make someone, somewhere, forget their troubles for a while and laugh.  Today is not one of those days. 

    I have a serious topic to write on with the permission of my wife, Cindy.  The reason I asked her is because it’s related to her life and common throughout the U.S.  The story is about Cindy’s overeating problem.

  • Help us celebrate Veteran’s Day


    Veteran’s Day is on Nov. 11, but here at The Sun we are getting a head start on honoring this country’s veterans.

    We are trying to gather information on veterans in the county, or relatives of residents in the county who are veterans, so that we can honor them in the Nov. 9 issue of the paper.
    The information we are looking for is listed on page A9. As you can see, we’re also looking for pictures.  

  • Always a reason for hope, even with cancer


    The words had inadvertently found their way on the printed page; they were obviously not meant for anyone to read. Only two words: “No hope.” But they said so much. Too much.

    They were printed next to the name of a cancer patient for whom we prayed. I flinched when I read them. No one is beyond hope--- not even those who appear to be victims in the last stages of cancer.

  • S. Wiley on Ghosts

     
    It was a dark and stormy night. 

    Well, maybe it wasn’t stormy exactly but the extended weather forecast said it would be by next week.  It might not have been dark either as I remember a full moon that night.  Naw, I remember now it was dark.  The full moon came from some kids that drove by as I was dragging my garbage cans down by the road.  That was the only “full moon” I saw that night.
    Okay, so it was not a stormy but a dark night.
    Yep, that’s it.

  • True Colors


    “Ask not what your country can do for you - ask what you can do for your country.”
    John F. Kennedy

    When a country is filled with people that live the quote you see above, then that country can be called great.
     I know a man that lived it everyday of his life.
     My wife called me at work last week to say that Washington County resident Mr. Hugh L. Grundy had very quietly passed from this world to the next at the age of  95.  He is that man.
     Do you know who Mr. Grundy is?

  • Chesser is alive and hopefully well, thankfully


    I hope that Randall Chesser is in a comfy bed, feet propped up, with a warm, fluffy comforter tucked over his slight body.

    I hope that his favorite television show is on in front of him, or his favorite game, or that someone is reading his favorite book to him.
    I hope that he is surrounded by his favorite aunts, uncles, cousins, relatives.
    I hope that he’s wearing a big grin, one like I’ve seen in the school photos of him.
    I hope Randall Chesser feels safe and secure, rested, fed and comfortable.

  • Hello there, again


    Hi Washington County. It’s me again.

    Usually you’ll find me over on the sports page. Today, you get a double dose of me.
    As you read last week, The Springfield Sun is without publisher Jeff Moreland. He has moved on to become publisher and editor at The Central Kentucky News-Journal in Campbellsville. We don’t yet have a new fearless leader.

  • Be careful, those words could be your last


    I was standing at the street corner, waiting for the light to change when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was waving his left arm from his car window, urgently trying to get my attention.

    Then, pulling out of his parking space, he stopped in front of me, blocking me from crossing the street. Only after he lowered his electric window on the passenger side could I see who it was.

  • S. Wiley On Politicians


    Do you people remember Mr. Wiley?

     Mr. S. Wiley, or Slick to his friends and the folks at the FBI, is my 93-year-old “personal advisor”, formerly from New York City.  Mr. Wiley used to be my financial advisor until he lost all my money, and that of the rest of his clients.  I’ve been holding him hostage in an attempt to recoup my loses from his loved ones.  However, strangely enough, no one’s come looking for him despite my many ransom letters.