Today's Opinions

I’m looking forward to Sunday, and not just because it’s the weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, I love weekends; but this Sunday is a special one. This Sunday will be my first Mother’s Day with my son.

Two years ago, I couldn’t imagine myself as a mother. I had lots of practice mothering both my sister and my dog. They didn’t always like it, but like a mother, I was always there for them.

When my sister was little I helped give her a bottle and change her diaper. As she got older, I bossed her around and chased away neighborhood bullies.

To the editor: In a recent letter to the editor (May 1 issue of the Beacon), Ralph E. McClernan, bless his heart, asks the following question: “Is southern charm real?”

I believe it is. I know because I am a southern belle through and through, and I can be quite charming if I may say so myself; however, I can get meaner than a barrel of snakes if pushed too far, which is sometimes what happens when one of my Yankee friends makes fun of everything I hold dear—my southern family, my redneck friends and my quaint culture.

To the editor: I am teaching high school students the classic works of Emerson, Thoreau and Whitman, which in another lifetime I had to absorb in someone else’s classroom.

Even then, these authors were not high on my personal “hit parade.” They were the leaders of the 19th century pseudo-religion that accepted the moral teachings of Jesus but denied the divinity of Christ.

They asserted the divinity of man while renouncing historic Christianity.