Posts by Joyce McCullough

According to William Shakespeare, “That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Many people, especially writers, owe their livelihood to the recognition of their names. Unlike Louisa May Alcott, who supported her entire family…

  Robbie Burns’ question about “auld” acquaintances also applies to my “auld” clutter. How much longer am I going to keep my 1994 issues of Southern Living magazine? Since my retirement three years ago, I have been attempting to purge…

When I was younger, I remember hearing a man in my church begin every prayer by thanking God for life, health, and happiness. Ditto that!! As I grow older, I am reminded of this prayer more and more often. I…

  After taking a walk in the fall of 1819, poet John Keats wrote the following words to a friend: “How beautiful the season is now—How fine the air. A temperate sharpness about it. . . . Aye better than…