Opinion

I heard that several years ago when President George H.W. Bush was on the campaign trail, he stopped in to visit some residents in a nursing home.

He walked up to one elderly woman in a wheelchair and said, “Hello there, ma’am, what’s your name?” 

This is a story about a cat, but it’s not about one of those strays running around Zaring Mill Road.

This one came from a nice, traditional cat family, though road-dropped relatives may have been in the gene pool.

This cat didn’t live in a box in someone’s corner, wasn’t fed anything out of a can or box, didn’t know litter from a ladder and was responsible for her own grooming.

We didn’t know her pedigree. She never saw a cage or a doctor.

But she did know love, survival and the place that was her home.

We knew the worst was going to happen sooner rather than later.

We knew, tragically, that nothing would be done about the problem until it was brought to the forefront by damage to human flesh.

A couple drove down a country road for several miles, not saying a word. An earlier discussion had led to an argument, and neither of them wanted to concede their position.

As they passed a barnyard of mules, goats and pigs, the husband couldn’t remain silent. He glanced at his wife and asked sarcastically, "Relatives of yours?"

Joe Dean called it “string music.”

Cawood Ledford – and I humbly apologize for juxtaposing those two names – described it by many melodic monikers, such as “rambling the ropes,” “tickling the twine” or “nothing but nylon.”

Wannabe athletes have for decades created catchy calls, but ultimately they wind up with a simple, elegant word: “pure.”

When you sit down to write about Easter, you have to pause.

We are taught in the College of Political Correctness to walk the center stripe when it comes to issues involving religion and faith. We are taught to keep those feelings private and not sell our souls, if you will, in public.

But those among us who are Christians were charged by Jesus to spread the word of His name and His message to the world, anointing each of us as disciples in that task.

Were you surprised to see last week that the contractors responsible for the Shelbyville Bypass didn’t start work on the first day they were supposed to work?

We certainly weren’t.

The General Assembly is very close to taking away one of your rights to access, and it’s a remarkable reaction to a law that most members didn’t even know existed.

The House of Representatives voted last week to approve a bill that would allow evaluations of school superintendents to be done in private session. The Senate had approved a similar measure earlier this month.

All that keeps this from putting you behind a screen of secrecy is a language approval by the Senate and Gov. Steve Beshear’s signature.

You have read and probably even seen so much about Alyson Myatt, the young woman who saved the little boy from the fire last week.

She rushed through the flames barefoot in one of those rare acts of heroism that all of us wonder if we have within us.

The world is filled with unsung heroes – you probably know many of them – but there are few whose deeds are so bold, so brave and so remarkably pure of heart.