We’ve just returned from our annual trip to the Gulf Coast of Florida. It’s absolutely primitive, isn’t it? This switch that’s thrown somewhere deep in the spongy folds of our gray matter at this time every year, telling us to head farther south toward the equator, to put our feet into the familiar brine from which our ancestors first crawled. We use a calendar, sure, to coordinate days off work and the kids’ summer activities, but we’d know even without the months laid out in front of us, it’s one of the senses of summer.

It’s almost prehistoric, the way we caravan with friends like nomadic Bedouin beachcombers down highways 78, 331, 82, 52 and 98. Slowly, like primordial ooze, we pass stagnant tractors, backhoes and earthmovers like rusted-out brontosaurs standing vigil over farmers’ fields. Past the otherworldly sculptures of unchecked kudzu overtaking utility poles and water oaks, we creep as the kids cover their ears from Daddy singing along with Mick Jagger, just as their ancestors must have.

The long line of Mastodon SUVs with their humpbacks of swimsuits, flip-flops, sunscreen, pails and shovels, and beach towels crawls through towns as exotic as Luverne, Opp, Clanton, Jasper and Defuniak Springs to place names as familiar to Memphians as Mud Island and Overton Park.

Once there, we find oases such as Destin, Panama City and Fort Walton Beach. They’re the destinations we know from our own childhood and those we wish to show our own children.

The parking lots are dotted with Shelby County license plates. Beneath the blinding sunlight and on the patio of Hurricane Oyster Bar in Grayton Beach, we say hello to fellow Memphians and, farther down Scenic Highway 30-A, we meet a seasonal Memphian working behind the counter of Sundog Books in Seaside … (read more)

In only its second year of existence, the GiVE 365 initiative of the Community Foundation of Greater Memphis has received a challenge gift from Sylvia Goldsmith Marks.

She is the granddaughter of Jacob Goldsmith, who founded and operated the department stores that once bore his name and have since become part of the Macy’s empire. Marks will match all new GiVE 365 memberships, through Aug. 31, up to $20,000.

“She inherited the family tradition of the importance of giving back,” said Bert Barnett, a cousin and spokesperson for the 93-year-old Marks.

GiVE 365 is hosting a cocktail hour and membership drive Thursday, July 21, at 5:30 p.m. to announce the gift at East Tapas and Drinks, 6069 Park Ave. Current members will also be on hand to answer questions. East Tapas is donating appetizers and offering drink specials … (read more)

After watching an old black-and-white movie on television one night last week, I resisted flipping through the other hundreds of stations and instead watched an old Bob Hope “Command Performance” from the 1940s.

We’ve all seen the film footage of the players on stage as they broadcast over the Armed Forces Radio Network. The scene is one of Hope and a parade of stars holding scripts before oversize microphones and in front of a lucky group of GIs dressed in olive drab, many holding rifles as if just having marched in from the front. The venue is always standing room only.

I was out of town last week, and when Hope introduced Judy Garland to sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” I was reminded of my 5-year-old daughter singing that song in her preschool’s end-of-the-year program a couple of months ago. She continues to sing it at random times these days, and it made me miss her and look forward to seeing her in a few days’ time.

In the spirit of Hope’s show, I thought of the men who had watched and listened in remote outposts, and how they must have missed their own children, how painfully they must have missed their families.

I was home from my trip in time for the Fourth of July holiday weekend. I walked in the front door to hugs from my kids after my safe travels that posed little or no danger other than the possibility of a flat tire or hot coffee spill … (read more)

But many didn’t return home, and their travels, their very jobs, are so much more dangerous that it defies comprehension for most of us who will never experience war or stare down that sort of frightening and unknown road.

I spent last weekend away from my own four children at my mother’s house in Naples, Fla. While there, I found myself in a world I am in no way equipped to handle at this point in my life. Not the world of beaches, sea breezes and palm trees, but one of graduates and babies.

I took this trip for my brother, David, who was graduating from high school. As it is with all such occasions, we were bombarded with talk of the graduates’ immediate futures and plans, and with the speeches of a valedictorian, salutatorian and optimistic administrators.

I am still five long years from my own son’s high school graduation, and was surprised last week to realize that I am not looking forward to that milestone and his inevitable release into the real world. As I listened to my mother and stepfather heap advice and praise on David, I wondered what wisdom I might pass on to my son, Calvin, and I came up short. I hope he either learns all he needs in school or that I’m struck by inspiration and immeasurable wisdom sometime before May 2016.

My sister was there as well with her daughter and 15-month-old son, and I was reminded of that very special age and the responsibility of keeping kitchen cabinets secured, remote controls out of reach, small objects up high and naps. We have outgrown this stage of childhood in our home, and for this I am grateful, because even when I had my own 15-month-olds, I was unprepared for such responsibility. And because no matter how cute my nephew is, there is nothing adorable about wet Cheerios stuck to one’s flip-flops or the remote hidden among Tupperware … (read more)

Another school year has come to an end. If yours was anything like ours, the year was one of ups and downs, overall good grades, some conduct issues, large and involved projects and plenty of homework.

School days are, by necessity, rigid in their schedules and run smoothly because of their rules.

Summer days are not.

So, to my kids, and to yours if you wish, I give you your summer syllabus.

First, take your school pants, the ones with the knees that are frayed and worn thin, and rip the legs off there at those knees. This is your summer uniform.

Next, go outside and stay there until called in. And then complain that the day is over. Catch fireflies. Explore the woods. Build a fort. Tear it down and build another. Spend an entire day reading comic books. Have your fill of snow cones. Learn the names of the birds in your backyard. Drink from a hose. Track down kids in your neighborhood and get to know them. Read “Tarzan, the Ape Man” beneath your largest tree … (read more)

In 1935, America was still in the grip of the Great Depression. Thousands of men were out of work, and families shifted, hungry and anxious, looking for employment and a helping hand of any sort. Out of this panic, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s New Deal was created, a series of economic programs meant to provide relief, recovery and reform to our country.

Of the New Deal programs, the most aggressive by far was the Works Progress Administration, begun in 1935. The WPA employed millions and invested nearly $7 billion in carrying out public works projects across the land. Shelby County was a large beneficiary of the upgrades and pay with $20 million in assets by 1937 to show for the work.

The goals of the WPA in Memphis were to employ men and women and improve health, recreation and, by default, community. Projects overseen by WPA district supervisor M.E. Williams at the time included the installation of 5,500 feet of sanitary sewers and the resurfacing of alleyways. Crump Stadium was built to hold 15,000 at a cost of $161,270, Union Avenue was paved, many area public schools were painted and repaired, and a dog pound was built at Front and Auction.

In Overton Park, an open-air band stage and shell were built for $17,609, while in the nearby zoo, a monkey island was constructed at a cost of $14,573.

As to health, for a city still reeling from the effects and memories of the yellow fever epidemic, the fight against mosquitoes and malaria was paramount, and money and manpower were spent to shore up ditches, culverts and bayous around the area, and a new hospital was built … (read more)

On a chilly morning in March, the volunteers repairing the house in Binghamton stopped long enough to fill their bellies with sandwiches and chips and their souls with a testimony of faith from a colleague.

“It’s much more than just repairing a house,” said Samantha Stanford of Grenada, Miss., leading a team of student volunteers from the University of Missouri who were spending their spring break renovating a house on Hollywood Street.

This particular house will become the Eikon Ministries Intern House, a place for future community volunteers and interns to stay as they join in the work of Service Over Self, the nonprofit home-repair ministry that has been sharing the gospel in word and deed for 25 years.

What began in 1986 with a two-week service project by a youth group at Christ United Methodist Church has become a year-round, multidenominational ministry that has overseen the repair of more than 700 homes with more than 20,000 volunteers from 30 states … (read more)