Do you ever wonder if elected or appointed city officials care much at all about residents? I don’t mean only what they say, but also what they do and how they do it. Do you think they are concerned about your wishes on how your city is run, about your desire to understand the decisions being made and how those decisions directly affect your life? Well, some do care, and their efforts should be remembered the next time they run for office or the next time their re-appointment to a board comes up. Forthrightly and professionally conducting the business of the city, they prove themselves worthy of the public trust. But what about the others?

Each year I try to get to a Braves/Mets match-up. As the Braves rivals in the NL East, the Mets series always seem to have lots of drama and are typically lots of fun. I was at a game a number of years ago when Brian Jordan hit a walk-off grand slam against Armando Benitez and that remains one of my best memories at a ballpark.

Way back when I started first grade — these were the days before parents packed their kids off to day care, preschool, pre-kindergarten, or kindergarten — I recall needing a 3-ring binder, a few pencils, and notebook paper. We didn’t even need a pencil holder for the notebook, but my mom made sure I had one anyway. That was it.

The Wife graduated from the University of Virginia, home of the Wahoos – a fish that can drink twice its body weight in water.

I have just been on the second worst wild goose chase of my genealogy “career” trying to track a child of Mark and Frances Boyd Tidwell. The worst was several years ago when I tracked an Owens family for two years before I found out it was the wrong one.

Occasionally, albeit rarely, a man will ask me how to properly romance and court a woman.

These are wise men.

So far I have been unable, though, to put three of them together. That leaves me to think that those legendary three wise men were just another Biblical miracle.

Many say they believe the Bible. Many, however, believe the Bible until it hits their particular wall of prejudice or conviction. For example, many believe in the Bible until it comes to their pocketbooks. Then, the words from the Prophet Malachi about giving God 10 percent can be interpreted very loosely and even ignored as binding today.

If Miss Manners doesn't deal with camera protocol before vacation season gets further underway, I may have to write her myself.

Heard any good fishin’ stories lately? I’ve run across two that sound fishy to me, but are supposedly real life happenings in the “truth is stranger than fiction” category.

If the devastation of a major city, the massive loss of life, and the unimaginable heartache and misery brought about by Hurricane Katrina were not enough, it appears that medical personnel at Memorial Medical Center in New Orleans may have murdered as many as four patients in the days following the catastrophe.

The Wife, she is counting down the days. Summer break is almost over, and teachers must all go back to school. Bummer, especially if you’re married to a teacher.

For those who may be curious, my mystery caller did call back and I pointed her to the Old Campbell County Historical Society’s research room. She was thrilled to learn about it.

One of the most popular columns I’ve written had to do with Mama and her longing to get more mail. There was an outpouring of response from readers, many of whom asked for Mama’s address so they could send cards and others who promised to pay more mail attention to their older relatives and friends.

Haifa residents live in fear of their lives today as explosives from Hezzbola guerrillas strike homes and businesses. In turn, Israeli forces pound away at targets in Lebanon. Innocent lives on both sides of the Lebanese/Israeli border are been sacrificed.

When, a couple of Christmases back, Dave gave me my very own copy of the OED – the Oxford English Dictionary, considered by lexicographers to be the last word in words – I thought I’d curl up with it and just browse to my heart’s content.

Like many in my generation, I discovered the martial arts, specifically karate, thanks to a wise old master named Mr. Miyagi.

One Friday night, during a wedding rehearsal, the couple and I were examining the vows they would make on the following day.

My friend at the fire department just had his first baby, and my buddy in the real estate business, did too.

Both had little girls. The babies and moms are doing fine. To say the new dads don’t have a clue would be an understatement.

Busy-ness, appointments, and the heat conspired to keep us home from the lake this spring and summer.

The heat was the real villain. It?s tolerable while the boat is moving, since we’re inside. We get a little breeze while under way, and the tinted windows reflect heat and sunlight.

When Hamas terrorists tunneled from Gaza into southern Israel, killed two Israeli soldiers and abducted Corporal Galid Shalit, that probably put the nail in the coffin of any prospect for a peaceful settlement between Israel and the Hamas-controlled Palestinian Authority.

Today I would like to talk about a scourge that has affected nearly everyone in the known universe: The Wiggles.

They are not a new threat to the sanity of adults everywhere, but I have only recently felt the dastardly effects of the uncannily catchy tunes from four “mates” from Australia, and I feel that it is my duty as a journalist to warn everyone who may not know about this quasi-rock band and their non-threatening (but mind-crushing nonetheless) brand of comedic mayhem and musicality.

Who would have ever thought it?

But there it was. On the menu of a diner located in New York City’s Upper West Side: Grits — $3.50.

I watched the debate Sunday night between four of the gubernatorial candidates. Diversity was apparent in that they included a woman running for governor. And for all of us who are out of shape (who need to be on a diet of water and crackers for four weeks), we were comforted that one of our kind was in the line up. You know, the big man for little Georgians. Then, the guy with the greasy top reminded me of a John Bircher plucked out of the Flynt River in the 1960’s and still trying to dry out and figure out what he believes. The flat top model candidate gave me the idea he came straight from auto shop at technical school. At least among Democrat Party candidates we have diversity, but little in dynamo.

In June, I attended and delivered the invocation for the graduation exercises for police cadets at the Fulton County Public Safety Training Center in College Park, Georgia.

The Boy wanted to go fishing the other day; unfortunately I couldn’t. I had to go to work.

He asked me if he could use my fishing stuff. Being the wonderful dad that I am, I said, “Sure. But you’re not gonna catch anything. It’s too hot. Fish won’t bite when it’s hot.”

William Tidwell and Mary Amelia Jones, our current family of interest, had nine children, as previously stated. Seven were born in Putnam County and the last two were born in the Coweta-Meriwether area, according to Ettie Tidwell McCall, author of McCall, Tidwell and Allied Families, written in 1931. This book has been the basis for much of the information in this series on the Tidwells. These nine children were:

Let me draw you a picture with words. I’m sure you’ll recognize it from those on calendars and Christmas cards. I think they call it American primitive.

This election, life would be simpler if I were a Democrat. Few choices, few decisions, no thinking.

But I’ll be asking for a Republican ballot, as usual. And thus I’ve had to do some pondering on several of the races. My decisions, not easily arrived at, are as follows:

Claudette, one of my favorite divas, summoned me to lunch. “We have something to discuss,” she announced firmly.

Dutifully, I showed up and was in great hopes that Claudette’s irrepressible in-laws had been up to their usual nonsense because I had a column to write and needed some material. Of course, it would be hard to top some of the things they’ve done such as the cousin who got tired of cutting grass so he just had the entire front lawn asphalted.

Remember one of the first haunting questions recorded in the Bible, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Cain was asking it of God after the former had committed the first murder. It should have been a tip off. The whereabouts and circumstances of our brothers and sisters matter greatly to God.