Something about the editor’s column (“Rays of sunshine in the Gloom Belt,” Steve Mullen, April 22) about how depressed we are in Mississippi did not ring true. So I did my own research.
It was an urban sound, a distant clanging coming from the direction of the port. But standing in the backyard on a recent morning, tea in hand watching the bees begin their day, the noise caused me to flash back to a morning seven or eight years ago in Manhattan’s Flower District.
As many of you know, MUW is in the process of finding a new name. The process has been thoughtful and transparent, and all the documents relating to it are on our Web site.
What’s in a name? For Mississippi University for Women, the more appropriate question is, ‘What’s not in a name?’: Reality.
It seems a team of scientists has been cataloging the nation’s bad-hair days. As it turns out, Kentucky is gloomy, but so is Mississippi. In fact, you could call Mississippi the buckle of the "Gloom Belt."
In Friday’s paper, at page 8A top right, there appears a VERY SHORT news item about Paul Minor not being allowed to attend his wife’s funeral. I consider this to be a very important and very disturbing story. I think your paper could have done a much better job of reporting this outrageous miscarriage of decency and justice. To me, it’s a lot more important than one more drug bust or one more laying on of hands on some yute.
Renaming The W is of secondary importance. The only change really needs at that fine old college is in the office of president!
A pre-emptive thorn to the Columbus voters who won’t participate in city elections this year. Turnout is expected to be low, and more disheartening is an apparent lack of interest in running for local office: The number of candidates running for mayor and council posts is half of what it was in the last election.
Dear Birney, As I do every Sunday, I look for your article. You didn’t disappoint this week (Tupelo honey at the Silver Spur). I felt I should respond.
As I write this column, I’m switching back and forth to a program called TweetDeck. Its dark, businesslike interface fills my entire laptop screen with several columns of updates, each one chiming as new information comes in.
In 1963, I took my first trip to the north side of town, to R.E. Hunt High School. Of course, I was only in junior high, but it was a big deal. That summer, we went to visit folks in the country, picked plums, chased cattle, rode horses, and sometimes, we just got up at 5:30 just to see the sun rise, and the critters crawling. In those days, the summer seemed to be a whole year long.
I was born, grew up, and educated through high school in Columbus. From the time I was old enough to read, I read The Commercial Dispatch and its comics. Since returning to Columbus after retiring in 1985, I have been a regular subscriber to the same newspaper. I don’t believe that I have ever before written a “Letter to the Editor.” Now, though, I have a complaint.
Well, so much for Reneau and Waverley as names for Mississippi University for Women. In the case of Reneau, it’s a shame. We’re not sure how Waverley, the name of a Sir Walter Scott novel and, subsequently, the Clay County antebellum mansion, made the cut other than it begins with a “W,” a pet name some want to preserve.
A rose to Alma Turner as the longtime educator opens a new chapter in her life. After heading the Golden Triangle chapter of the Institute of Community Services HeadStart program for nearly a decade, Turner is leaving the post to spend time with her family.
The only people who think the proposed names for MUW, Reneau and Waverley, are “racist” ARE racists. It’s way past time to bury that dead dog. These people constantly harp about how some glorify the past and want to relive it, while they themselves continue to keep the past alive with claims of being “offended.”
The dithering about a name change for MUW continues to amaze me. It’s obvious that there is no strong support for any of the suggested names and I wonder if anyone could demonstrate that there is support for one of them greater than for the current name. I admire the members of the committee for their fortitude because no matter which name is chosen, it’s likely that only a minority will respond to it positively.
Last summer at the farmers’ market I asked George Dyson if tupelo trees grow this far north. George, one of the market regulars, is the grizzled fellow usually on the north end of the market with a beard and the tattered “I (heart) Bikinis” baseball cap. He sells bowls and cooking utensils he crafts from native woods such as bois d’arc, oak and sassafras.
The state Legislature shouldn’t be faulted for delaying adoption of the state budget as it awaits more information about how to spend the federal economic stimulus money Mississippi is getting. But, to say the least, it’s alarming the House and Senate have been unable to agree on how much to raise the cigarette tax.
We’ve covered some ground. Lee and the two girls, ages 7 and 9, are here for Spring Break, their first time in Columbus, in advance of moving here from California after the school year ends. I’ve received lots of suggestions on how to keep them occupied; we’ll never cover it all but we’re off to a good start.
My name is Mary. I first would like to say hello. I would like to share my testimony with you and pray that it helps and encourages you. I am a dialysis patient. I started dialysis in July 1982. I am 46 years old. I have seen many come and go, and the Lord has blessed me these many years to be here through much suffering and pain.
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