Lifestyle

I’m back from a pilgrimage. I thought I was going on a simple, relaxing getaway with my husband this month, but it turned into so much more. Wikipedia defines pilgrimage as: “A journey, often into an unknown or foreign place, where a person goes in search of new or expanded meaning about their self, others, nature or a higher good through the experience. It can lead to a personal transformation, after which the pilgrim returns to their daily life.”

A few years ago I received a telephone call from the Johnson County History Museum Library. The lady on the phone asked if we had a particular book by Rachel Quick Buttz. Rachel was a native of Bartholomew County. I was not familiar with her at the time, but I looked in our catalog and found that we did not have the book in question. They were weeding their collection and wanted to send us the book. I told the lady on the phone I would take it. The book is a collection of poetry titled “Blades and Blossoms” published in 1911. This made me curious about Rachel Quick Buttz. Who was she and what could I find out about her?

I attended my first and only Laborers’ Union meeting when I was a young teen. I accompanied my father and grandfather, both of whom were receiving awards for their 20 and 50 years, respectively, as members of the Union. Someone sitting at our table asked if I thought that I would join the union as well when I was older. My father laughed and quipped that I was “too smart” for road construction, a comment that was rightfully read by the table filled with highly intelligent construction workers as an underhanded compliment to my much more artistically minded personality.

Among her earliest memories, retired 34-year educator Donna Browne recalls playing with her dolls inside her family’s modest farmhouse near Petersville.

The Lasting Impressions are ready to kick off a rollicking 20th season in Columbus, delivering a spring show that features memorable lyrics and melodies from the 1940s, ’50s and ’60s.

I think of my late mother more frequently as Mother’s Day draws near. She held me as I took my first breath, and I held her hand when she took her last. It’s been 18 years now since she left this earth. I miss her a lot, but her passing was not unexpected. She was 84, in failing health and ready to take her place among the stars. Her death, though sad, was part of the natural order of things.

Sometimes, the hotel pool is calling your name.

During business hours, Frank J. Griffin spends much of his time creating programs that support social justice and racial equity through his job as a program director with the Cummins Foundation in Columbus.

As my husband Mike and I headed out on Feb. 1 to begin a driving trip south, I stuck a virtual pencil behind my right ear … a reminder I wanted to write my next column about our vacation.

I have a dilemma that’s likely familiar to other Prime-Timers. At least to us ladies. What to do with my ironing board? It’s been gathering dust forever. I’ve probably only used it three times since moving in 2011. Is it time to donate it to Goodwill? Do second-hand stores even want such relics? It might be better suited for the Kroot Corporation’s scrap yard. But ironing and I have some history, and I’m having a hard time letting it go.