There are 8.5 million Virginians. Surely the commonwealth can find someone to serve as governor whose yearbook page does not prominently feature a picture of a broadly grinning young white man in blackface and another wearing Ku Klux Klan robes.

Chances are, that if you’ve ever heard me speak more than once, you’ve heard me tell the inspiring story of working with Darrell Waltrip in 1989 when he won his only Daytona 500 by taking a big gulp of a risk.

Roosevelt and Hinckley By Ronda Rich Until the presidential election of 1988, Daddy, who always cherished his right to vote, had never cast a ballot for a non-Democrat. He was, as was most mountain kin of ours, what folks in the South call “a yellow dog Democrat.” In other words, they would vote for a yellow dog as long as he was a Democrat

Always, as we enter into a new year, I like to look back at the past year and reflect on the memories, especially the good ones.

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When Miss Independence arrived at the two-story brick elementary school, I walked determinedly through the doors, found a classroom and settled in.

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Roosevelt was of the privileged New York elite, so he had no idea how the poverty-plagued Southern region was forced to live. What he saw there would change his heart – and his changed heart would transform all of America during the dark days of the Depression.

The Georgia Department of Public Health (DPH) and the Pediatric Healthcare Improvement Coalition of Georgia (PHIC) encourage all parents to fully vaccinate their children, ages 6 months and older, each year against influenza.

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We lived in a solid, little house with three bedrooms and one tiny bathroom and there was never a worry over paying the light bill before the power was cut off.

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The other day, Tink forwarded a story link to me. In an effort to know all things Southern and to love better this different life he has chosen, he often checks things online then forwards interesting pieces.

Recently it has occurred to me that I’m just too extreme in how I save and manage and refuse to throw away.

Even as a child, I knew that Daddy was the little pig who built the sturdy house and turned to the other two pigs and said, “You can huff and you can puff but you can’t blow my house down.”

Keep calm and raise hell. The forces of truth and justice may be closing in on President Trump, but there is no reason to believe they can triumph without massive displays of outrage in the streets and at the polls.

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During the week of April 21-28, the city of Jonesboro will join other cities across Georgia in celebrating Georgia Cities Week. This week has been set aside to recognize the many services city governments provide and their contribution to a better quality of life in Georgia. Our theme, “Cities in the Spotlight,” reflects the role cities play in the state’s history.

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The steam of a Mississippi Delta morning was starting to take hold as I sat under a magnolia tree in front of the grand, old courthouse in Greenwood. Fifteen yards away was the muddy Tallahatchie River. The cars hummed over the bridge as I sat quietly reading the works of Miss Eudora Welty.

The deliberately outrageous idea of arming classroom teachers is nothing more than a distraction, a ploy by the gun lobby to buy time for passions to cool. Don’t get sidetracked. Keep the focus where it belongs — on keeping military-style assault rifles out of civilian hands.

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A road trip recently swung me down the back roads of Georgia and took me through a little town called Homer. I wouldn’t have thought much about it until I saw that wonderful old brick courthouse shaded by trees under which, probably, once rested a Confederate soldier or two.

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Not long ago, I went to the funeral of a man I did not know. I had never even seen him or heard him speak a word. Saddest of all, I had never heard the talented musician play a single bluegrass note on his mandolin or banjo.

Grit your teeth. Persevere. Just a few more days and this awful, rotten, no-good, ridiculous, rancorous, sordid, disgraceful year in the civic life of our nation will be over. Here’s hoping that we all — particularly special counsel Robert Mueller — have a better 2018.

The great Simeon Booker, one of the bravest journalists of our time, faced dangers far worse than a petulant president’s social media feed. Booker refused to be cowed — and ultimately helped change the nation. His life’s work should be a lesson to us all about the power of truth to vanquish evil.

We know that President Trump and his campaign either colluded with the Russian effort to undermine U.S. democracy or tried mightily to do so. We know that Trump has apparently obstructed justice to try to halt investigation into what happened. What we don’t know is whether Congress, in the end, will do its sworn duty to protect the Constitution.

“Thoughts and prayers” are fine. Locking arms “through the tears and the sadness,” as President Trump prescribed, is all well and good. But none of this does a damn thing to stop, or even slow, the carnage.

Latest to the vandals goes Teddy Roosevelt, whose bronze likeness astride a horse in front of New York’s American Museum of Natural History recently received a splash of red paint upon its base.k

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