For years, naysayers have said local and community newspapers are dying. They cite falling ad revenue, aging readership, lower subscriber rates and meager online revenue as Google and Facebook take the lion’s share.
COVID-19 has proved we are more relevant than ever, however. As tough a time as this is for our communities, our state and our nation, this is also a time for newspapers’  renaissance. It is a great opportunity to show our communities that no one covers them — and cares for them — like their local newspaper.

Right now, I’m sure the most relevant topic in all of our lives and businesses is dealing with the coronavirus, COVID-19.
But as they say, laughter is the best medicine, so I hope my column can give everyone a chuckle or at least a little smile to brighten their day.
Turning old is inevitable, we all know that! 
When we are teenagers we can’t wait to turn 18, then it’s 21, and from that point on, most of us dread getting a year older.
Another aspect when you’re young is you look forward to going to dances.

Sometimes in our lives we’re blessed to be a part of a special event that makes you so proud it brings you to tears.
One of those events for myself, family and friends and more than 600 other proud folks occurred on Feb. 7 when my first grandchild and only grandson, Dylan Chadwick Ferguson, graduated from the 78th Season of the Corpus Christi Police Academy, received his badge and officially became an officer with the Corpus Christi Police Department.
Dylan was one of 30 new officers selected out of 800 applicants.

First off, let me congratulate Mike Probst, publisher of the Rockport Pilot, for being honored with the 2020 Frank W. Mayborn Award for Community Leadership. Kudos also to this year’s Texas Newspaper Foundation Hall of Fame inductees and winners in the Texas Better Newspaper Contest. It’s great to be recognized for your newspaper’s hard work and for providing strong journalism for your community.

When I assumed the role of Texas Press Association president nearly 18 months ago, I wondered what I could possibly bring to the table. Age and wisdom? Maybe. Age and experience? I suppose. Age? Got it.
More than anything, though, I was determined to honor the rich legacy of my predecessors.
A day or two later it dawned on me: not only would I have 18 columns to write, but I would be writing them for a fairly exclusive audience of my fellow writers and journalists.

The Commerce Journal has covered the news of its community for over 130 years — or at least it did until October 31, 2019, when the last edition of “The Official Paper of the Bois D’Arc Capital of Texas” was published.
Sad news for the 400 residents who still subscribed to the Commerce Journal. Sad news, too, for the nearly 9,000 other residents of that community, who did not subscribe but should have. They may have no idea what they missed. Yet.

For days, I had been planning my Thursday escape from the editor’s desk, determined to keep an appointment in Oklahoma City. As any native Texan should, I kept one wary eye on the weather forecast. 
Just four days earlier, I had covered our Fall Foliage Festival wearing shorts and flip-flops. But on Monday morning, the National Weather Service advised that a new weather system might bring light rain and snow to some parts of the Panhandle.

Kari Lynn Collins’ powerful column in the Iowa Park Leader is not only a beautiful tribute to that publication’s 50th anniversary—it is also a loving tribute to its founder and publisher, and her mother, Dolores Hamilton. 
Kari’s words struck many familiar chords with me this week, as I remembered the September 22 birthday of my mother and co-publisher, Nancy Ezzell, whose quiet wisdom and strength guided The Canadian Record for over six decades until her death in 2013. Truth be told, it still does.

Nearly a century ago, the gray wolves were eliminated from Yellowstone National Park – the result of the federal government’s early failure to provide for their protection from the human predators that the newly established national park attracted, and of government-subsidized predator control programs that later sped their demise. 
The last wolf kills were reported in 1926. Sporadic reports of wolf sightings followed, but their numbers were no longer sustainable. 

The rattlesnake was uncoiled, curled in an elongated ’S’ on the edge of an asphalt road. The grass and dirt, and a distinctive white scrap of something at the side of the road, offered some sense of scale, but none was needed. Rattlers always look lethal, regardless of size.