Remember the children’s story about Chicken Little? A bird dropped an acorn and conked him on the head, and he became hysterical. He went around screaming “The sky is falling! The sky is falling!” to anyone who would listen. And there were plenty of gullible animals willing to listen.

Every now and then, someone will treat me like I’m a big deal. Now, you and I both know I am not a big deal. But, because I’m on TV in my town, it’s not unusual for someone to make a fuss. I always thank them, because I appreciate the kind words.

Mama was real good at money. She could get as much out of a dollar bill as a lot of people could get out of five dollars.

Another session of the General Assembly is upon us. This is an election year and there will be more posturing under the Gold Dome than a prima ballerina in a performance of “Swan Lake.”

Confession is good for the soul, so they say. What better place to confess than right here, for all to see?

Prior to Iran's missile attacks on U.S. bases inside Iraq, Secretary of Defense Mark Esper said, "We are not seeking war with Iran, but we are prepared to finish one." Esper said the U.S. prefers a "diplomatic" solution to the escalation of tensions in the region.

I’m gonna talk about “ball” a little bit today. You have been warned. But not really. At least, “ball” is not the point.

It was the beginning of summer, the beginning of dusk edging toward twilight as we headed home from dinner with friends.

It is a new year. C’mon, smile. Be happy.

When there’s a special song in your life, you can easily recall hearing it for the first time.

I guess the U.S. has given a little quid pro quo to the thugs in Iran who think it is acceptable to fire rockets at military bases housing U.S. soldiers and contractors.

I have a Christmas story for you. I am sharing, with permission, an excerpt from one of the best Christmas columns I have ever read, written by Mark Evanier. Mr. Evanier is a Los Angeles-based writer who has inspired me for many years.

Columnists like me salivate over chances like this that come around once every 10 years. 

Gadzooks! Can it really be 2020? That sounds more like what I wish my vision was than an actual year. Wasn’t it only yesterday when we sat holding our breath awaiting Y2K and wondering if all the computers in the world would go crazy and die? The only thing that happened was that a bunch of consultants got rich telling us our computers would go crazy and die if we didn’t hire them. Of course, nothing happened. The consultants and the computers are still laughing at us.

Have you thought about what kind of difference you have made in this world by your presence here? Or could make?  Or should make?

Editor’s note: This column was a favorite of my friend, Otis Brumby Jr., publisher of the Marietta Daily Journal. It is lovingly dedicated to his memory and to all believers.

I constantly ask questions. It’s my job. But I don’t have all the answers. Why can’t airlines, hotels and concert ticket sellers just be honest? Instead of charging us more money for “convenience fees” and “service charges,” why not just jack up the price on the front end and be done with it?

I regret I didn’t get to this in a timelier fashion, but the loss of former state Supreme Court Justice Conley Ingram last month removed another great American from our midst. He was one of the nicest and kindest people I ever had the pleasure to know. His sense of humor was legendary. There was the time he invited me to speak to the Marietta Rotary Club. As we were being seated, a visitor plopped down at our table and introduced himself with some enthusiasm. After inquiring about my occupation, he asked, “And what do you do, Conley?” “I am an unemployed lawyer,” the judge replied dryly, which seemed to dampen the guy’s interest in him. I took pleasure in watching the color drain from his face later in the lunch when I told him who Conley Ingram was. ...

In case you see some strangers talking loud and saying stuff like “fuhgeddaboudit,” it has been revealed that New York City has shipped off a number of their tired, their poor, their huddled masses yearning to breathe free (i.e. welfare recipients.) Only they didn’t tell anybody.

I speak today in defense of tacky.

When I see the ads about stores being open until midnight and beyond during the Christmas shopping season, I want to cry. Where were these people when I needed them?

It is a truism that a blackmailer is rarely satisfied. Once the payoffs start, there often is no end to them.

Among the great treats that come from my job as a writer are all the wonderful, handwritten letters I receive. Few are typed, and though I receive many emails, these scripted letters are always the most joyous.

I could make a list of all the things I’m not good at, and it would fill this column space. It would include swimming, singing, cooking and anything that requires athleticism or construction skills. I wouldn’t even include the things I haven’t yet tried, but in which I know I would fail. Those would include skydiving, roofing and performing surgery. Truth be told, the list of things I can do well would fit in one sentence. Like for instance, math.

I have traveled a right smart, across our great nation and around the world.