Recently I was privileged to get to go along with my little niece as she picked out the supplies she will take with her to the first grade. I, some might recall reading here, have a bit of thing for office and school supplies so this was a real treat for me. Or at least I thought it would be a treat.
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Google’s founders famously started their search engine company with the slogan “Don’t be evil,” and in the intervening years they’ve involved themselves with countless humanitarian and socially fluffy causes to pretend they don’t milk $60 billion each year from us. And the public face of that motto has become the Goole Doodle, in which the company uses its minimal homepage to champion some cause or celebrate an anniversary by transmogrifying its logo in some cutesy way.
I have a grievance with a certain potato chip manufacturer that I need aired. It involves a new, ridiculous flavor.
I’m going to be an uncle soon. Exceptionally soon, in fact. Probably in less than a month.
As hard as it is to believe, some area schools are back in session today. For that reason, those of us driving around in cars today need to shake off our summer driving patterns and slow down a bit.
In the 19th century, because of advances in printing technology and growing literacy, the serial novel became an increasingly popular way to deliver written works to the masses.
Julia Child would be 102 today were she still alive. If anyone reading this doesn’t know who I am talking about, that person should immediately go out and rent “Julie and Julia” and then be amazed. Of course, one could also just go to the local public television channel and watch the original episodes of Julia Child’s cooking programs. That would be enough to bring anyone who didn’t know who she was or why the world should take notice of her birthday up to speed.
In 2010, about this time of the year, I was anxiously awaiting my turn to leave home and go off to college.
On Sunday, I wrote a Good Morning about historic events that happened in this week in years past. As I was talking to my father over the weekend, he asked if I remembered another historical anniversary — it is the one I’d never expect him to forget.
One of my clearest early memories is of helping my sister make a mix tape. We made a new one every year for our summer vacation. I remember waiting, my finger on the “record” button of the tape deck, while my sister lined up the right track on the record player.