My nephew Connor reminded me of an obscure chess move I doubtless once knew but forgot in the passage of time. Connor, who is 10, learned to play chess recently and took to it so well that he took first place in a recent UIL contest among several rural East Texas schools.
The move is called en passant, which means in passing. It occurs rarely, but can be an effective offensive maneuver. Here’s how it works, thanks to Connor, who provided what he called the “simple explanation.” For non-chess players, please bear with me. In chess if a pawn has not yet moved, it can be moved straight ahead...
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I decided to add “You Are My Sunshine” to the repertoire of songs I can mangle on the guitar. So I found it with the OnSong app, uploaded and opened it. Most everybody knows the chorus to this tune, popularly believed to have been written by Jimmie Davis, who rode his fame singing that song all the way to the Louisiana governor’s mansion in 1944. Term limits kept him from running for re-election, but a decade or so later, Davis reprised the song and won another four-year term as governor.
Actually, Davis did not write “You Are My Sunshine.” He purchased the song from Charles Mitchell...
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OXFORD, MISS. — The earnest young man at the admissions office of the University of Mississippi — Ole Miss —explained the origin of the town’s name. Oxford, named after the British university, was created in 1837 in order to persuade the Legislature to fund building a public university there. The boosters hoped the name would help. It took 11 years, but in 1848, Ole Miss accepted its first students. Today, Oxford remains a small town of roughly 21,000 residents. Ole Miss is modest in size as well, with about 18,000 students.
We came here because our daughter Abbie is considering attending...
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Autumn is taking its sweet time getting here. That did not stop me from making a pilgrimage to procure a load of firewood from my brother-in-law’s farm near Jefferson. Besides, I needed to get some lumber for a future woodworking project with a friend. That is where it is stored, inside a rustic horse stable. It was a lovely day, cool enough to drive our 1965 Ford truck and fill the bed with well-seasoned red oak. The truck doesn’t have air-conditioning, and this was the first chance to drive it without rivulets of sweat obscuring my vision.
My friend accompanied me. We drove through the Northeast...
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