don’t remember when I first ate baked beans, but it was probably with Mom’s family in Crandall, TX. But I have loved them ever since. The Mexicans in our family do not like them and can’t imagine eating sweet beans, but that just leaves more for me. I
A timely column from Publisher Emeritus Bill Cooke, originally published in 2008. The invasion of Normandy happened on June 6, 1944.—K.W.C.
am a father, the son of a kindergarten teacher, and an American. I was also born in Uvalde, Texas. That’s why I’m writing this. I
Years ago, on a warm, summer night at a girls softball game, I overheard a player complaining to her coach, “… but I don’t want to play outfield!” Just then I heard the smack of the bat. The ball flew over the pitcher and sailed over second base. Runners on the loaded bases began sprinting. There came a shout from the outfield, “Mine! It’s mine!” The outfielder jogged forward a few steps, opened her glove and caught the fly ball. The inning was over, four scores averted.
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