It’s barely spring, and it already feels like summer showed up early. Around here, people aren’t just noticing—it’s becoming the main topic of conversation.

Even the jokes are writing themselves. Crawfish might as well be saying they’re “boiling before the pot now.”

All humor aside, the early heat has folks doing double takes at the calendar and wondering what the rest of the season has in store.

When I was a little boy, keys were my thing. Not toys. Not marbles. Not baseball cards. Keys. Real, metal, grownup keys—the kind that clinked in your pocket and made you feel like you had access to the universe.

And I had a source.

My grandfather—Pop—was a policeman. And apparently in the 1960s, Americans were losing keys at a rate that can only be described as “biblical.” Pop would bring me bags of keys. Now, I’m sure it was only three or four at a time, but to my young eyes it looked like Fort Knox had sprung a leak.

I had a ritual. A system. A liturgy of keys.

• House keys over here
• Car keys over there
• Mystery keys (the ones that looked like they opened secret government bunkers) in a special pile

Back then, every car company had its own key design. Ford keys looked like Ford keys. GM keys looked like GM keys. Chrysler keys looked like they were designed on a Friday afternoon. And because Ford also made Mercury, their keys were cousins—interchangeable in shape, though not in function. You could slip a Mercury key into a Ford ignition, but it wasn’t supposed to turn.

Supposed to.

One Friday night, Pop dropped off a fresh batch of keys. I sorted them with the precision of a jeweler. Then I grabbed a couple of Mercury keys and headed outside for what I can only describe as unauthorized field research.

I climbed into our 1961 Ford Galaxie—bench seat, steering wheel the size of a hula hoop, and an ignition switch that sat right on the dashboard like it was daring you to try something foolish.

I inserted a Mercury key.
It fit.
But it didn’t turn.

I inserted another Mercury key.
It fit.
It didn’t turn.

Then came key number three.

I slid it in, gave it a twist, and—VROOOOM—the Ford Galaxie roared to life like it had been waiting all day for a small child to hotwire it. Naturally, I followed the adult pattern I had observed:

I pulled the column shifter down into “D.”

“D” meant go.

And go it did.

The car lurched forward and traveled a majestic, triumphant five feet straight into the side of the house. The dent remained for forty years, a permanent historical marker commemorating the beginning of my illustrious driving career.

The adults poured out of the house like a fire drill—Mom, Dad, and Pop the policeman.

“How did you start the car?” they asked.

I explained my key-based methodology. Pop immediately cut off my Ford key supply.

I still had a large collection of GM keys, though, and Pop owned a Chevrolet. I had a whole testing plan ready for that vehicle. Sadly, my research program was shut down before Phase Two.

Jesus has given us the keys to the Kingdom—and unlike my Mercury Ford experiment, these keys actually belong to us, they always fit, and they never cause property damage.

You’re not locked out.
You’re not stuck in “Park.”
You don’t have to hotwire your way into grace.

The astonishing truth is this:

In Christ, you already hold the keys.

Keys to freedom.
Keys to forgiveness.
Keys to hope.
Keys to a life that actually goes somewhere.

And unlike that 1961 Ford Galaxie, you won’t crash into the side of the house when you use them.

Jesus hands you the keys and says, “Go ahead. Turn the ignition. Live. Move. Be free.”

That’s a Kingdom worth driving toward.

With over 30 years of bass tournament experience, I know that every bass angler that wets a hook has one goal in mind when they enter a tournament — win! While we all strive to bring winning sacks to the scales, the stars do not always align and allow that to happen. 

My background as an athlete has proven to be beneficial when it comes to the mental side of tournament bass fishing. The “never give up” mentality is so important as a tournament angler. 

Playing on a Texas state championship high school baseball team was one of my greatest accomplishments as an athlete. Twice during that special run in 1978, our backs were to the wall, but we never gave up and persevered on our way to winning it all. 

We never panicked no matter what the situation was. We stayed strong and committed to each other, making sure things went our way. Tournament bass fishing is no different. There will be days when things just don’t go the way you thought they would.  

But the guys who have a strong mindset, and the “never give up” attitude, seem to always find a way to put fish in the boat. Even if they don’t catch the winning fish, they still make a good showing. 

One of my recent trips to Lake of the Pines brought me so much joy — eventually! It began when the fish I found in practice just did not pan out. Oh, I had lots of excuses as to why they did not bite, but to sum it up, I just did not catch them. 

At 10:30 that tournament morning, I did not have a fish in the boat. I had caught a few, but none that would reach the 14-inch minimum. But I did not panic as I felt the fish would bite a little better in the afternoon due to the full moon we were fishing under. 

I finally put three fish in the boat between 10:30 and noon and then decided to move out of the area where I had found quality fish during practice. There was so much fishing pressure on the lake, I was sure that a lot of the fish I had found the day before had been caught. 

So, I pulled up on a point and made a long cast, and low and behold I caught a solid 3-pounder! I’m thinking, “hmmm, this is a good sign and maybe there’s a good school of bass on this point.” Sure enough, it was loaded with good keeper-size fish including a 5-pounder that threw my bait back to me on one particular cast. 

I anchored down on this spot and for three hours I began to catch over 35 bass off this one point. It was a day you don’t have all the time as an angler and even though I did not catch the winning bag, I had an awesome day on the water and enjoyed a trip I will never forget!

I’m wondering if age has anything to do with how I think now as an angler. At 65 years old, winning tournaments is just not as high on my priority list as it used to be. Oh, I’m still competitive and want to beat the pants off all these young bucks, but then there’s reality.  

But one thing I can say for myself, no matter how much longer I continue to fish bass tournaments, my desire to compete and win will never wane. I just have to remember; it’s not always about winning.

March 25 marks the birthday of music icon Elton John, born in 1947 in Middlesex, England. Over the course of more than five decades, Elton John has become one of the best-selling artists of all time, known for flamboyant stage costumes, unforgettable melodies and deeply personal songwriting.

Bursting onto the international scene in the early 1970s, Elton John teamed with lyricist Bernie Taupin to create a catalog of hits including “Your Song,” “Rocket Man,” “Tiny Dancer,” and “Crocodile Rock.” His blend of pop, rock and theatrical performance redefined what it meant to be a global superstar.

Albums such as “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” cemented his reputation as a musical innovator. Known for his dynamic piano performances and larger-than-life persona, Elton John became synonymous with arena-filling concerts and extravagant tours.

Beyond music, he has been a prominent advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and HIV/AIDS awareness through the Elton John AIDS Foundation, using his platform to promote philanthropy and social change.

In 2019, his life and career were dramatized in the biographical film “Rocketman,” introducing his story to a new generation. He also completed a multi-year farewell tour, closing a historic chapter in live performance history.

As fans celebrate his birthday each March 25, Elton John’s influence remains undeniable. From chart-topping hits to cultural impact, his legacy continues to sparkle as brightly as the sequined jackets he made famous.

It was the most elaborate presidential inauguration in the history of our country at the time.  An estimated one million people witnessed the peaceful transition of power in person.  There was a 10-mile, two-and-a-half-hour inaugural parade which escorted incoming president Dwight D. Eisenhower from the Capitol to the White House.  The parade was comprised of about 22,000 servicemen and women, 5,000 civilians, 50 state and organizational floats which cost a total of about $100,000, 65 musical units, 350 horses, three elephants, an Alaskan sled dog team, and the first public showing of our military’s most devastating piece of artillery at the time, an 85-ton atomic cannon called “Atomic Annie.”  Overhead, a continuous stream of aircraft including 1,100 jet fighters and a fleet of super bombers flew over the parade route.  To handle the huge crowds, two formal balls were held simultaneously at opposite sides of the city with President Eisenhower and First Lady Mamie Eisenhower having to be shuttled back and forth between the two for maximum effect.  While at previous inaugurations, one or two film stars made appearances, at least 40 stars of film and stage entertained or were guests at the inauguration, more than at any previous inauguration.  Newspapers around the world reported that it was the “biggest show ever staged in Washington.”

Hotels charge premium prices, and many desperate people had to pay a “black market bonus” of $100 just to make a hotel reservation.  Adjusted for inflation, that would be over $1,200 in today’s money.  Some of Washington’s “old families” rented out their luxury homes to millionaires and their friends for up to $3,000 for the week.  That would be nearly $37,000 in today’s money.  60 special trains set up “Pullman Cities,” named after the 600 Pullman parlor and sleeper train cars which accommodated about 10,000 visitors.  Forty steam locomotives kept constant “full heads of steam” to provide heat and hot water for the Pullman cities.  The accommodation committee set up for the purpose of housing the influx of visitors to our nation’s capital referred to it as Operation Headache.       

Rather than paying exorbitant fees and fighting the maddening crowds, most people chose to watch the inauguration from the comfort of their own homes.  It was broadcast on all three major television networks: ABC, CBS, and NBC.  An estimated 29 million people tuned in throughout the day for at least part of the inauguration.

President Eisenhower’s inauguration should have been the highest rated program on television during that era, but it was overshadowed by a regularly scheduled television sitcom shown the night before which depicted something that has happened to every living human being—a child was born.  More than 70% of American households, some 44 million people, 15 million more than watched the inauguration, watched the 30-minute sitcom which aired on CBS, a single network.  It remains one of the most watched sitcoms in television history.  The episode was filmed two months earlier and starred an actress who was really pregnant, a first for television.  This comedy showed the fictional chaos that happened leading up to the actress having a baby.  The actress in the sitcom went into labor and had a son, named after his father, on the day the episode aired.  The episode was titled “Lucy Goes to the Hospital” and starred Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz.

Sources:

1.      The Mail (Adelaide, Australia), January 17, 1953, p.23. 

2.     Press-Telegram (Long Beach, California), January 20, 1953, p.3.

3.     The Roanoke Times, January 21, 1953, p.18.

4.     “Inaugurations: 1953 Inauguration,” Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential Library, National Archives, accessed March 15, 2026, https://www.eisenhowerlibrary.gov/eisenhowers-presidential-years/inaugurations.

5.     “Lucy Goes to the Hospital,” IMDb.com, accessed March 15, 2026, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0609259/.

Life has so many variables out of our control that makes navigating our daily situations difficult. But in some instances, there are a few things we can control and it’s up to each of us to make it happen. 

One thing we have zero control over is who our parents are. We as individuals have zero say on the DNA we are blessed with, nor the people it came from. Even though we are who we are, we do have the ability to become the person we truly want to be. In most cases, we can pave our own path to success or failure with the skills we have been blessed with. 

Even with bad DNA flowing through our bodies, we still have the task of shaping our lives into whatever we want to be. But only if we as individuals take control and ownership of who we are will our direction in life be confirmed. 

I learned at a very early age that the good Lord above had blessed me with good athletic abilities. I figured out before the age of 10 that it would be through sports, with hard work and determination, that I could possibly have some success. Sports gave me a purpose!

That’s what we’re all looking for … a purpose! Even if it goes against the beliefs of the people who raised us, we have to take control of our own destiny at some point.

Even when the odds are against us, there are also times when we have to accept the consequences of our actions. We have to make decisions that not only affect ourselves, but those around us.

Sometimes this means hurting the ones we love the most because the direction they want us to go may not be the same as the destination we had in mind. 

By the time we reach 17 or 18 years old, most people know who they are and possibly what direction or path they might want to take. They start to see things in a different light than, say, their parents. But as parents, we must recognize that even though we think we know what’s best for our children, that may not always be the case. We must allow them to spread their wings and continue to grow even if they make a few mistakes along the way. It’s called growing up! 

I’ve always heard the excuse that he or she was a product of the environment in which they were raised. Sometimes this can be true, but it doesn’t always have to be that way. 

For example, my stepdad was a wife beater and treated women like they were worthless. Even though I witnessed many of these incidents first-hand at a young age, I always knew in my heart that this was wrong, and I made a conscious decision to never be that kind of person.

I always felt that God instills in each of us the ability to know right from wrong when we are born.  He gave all of us a brain and the ability to reason when we see things that are not right. 

Just because you grow up in a house with little to no guidance doesn’t give you the excuse to ignore what is right. Subconsciously we still know right from wrong and it’s up to each of us to make good decisions and do the right thing. 

We all need direction in our lives, which was lacking early in my childhood.  Hopefully, we have those we can turn to for advice like a parent or maybe a grandparent, aunt, uncle, preacher, teacher or maybe a coach. No matter who it is, it should be someone we trust. A person who has our best interest at heart. 

Bottom line is this — at some point in our lives we must take control over our destiny no matter what our background is. But when we make a decision, we must accept the consequences for our actions. This is what we call accountability!   

It really does take less square footage to be a kid now than it did back in the olden days—by which I mean the 60s, 70s, and 80s, when dinosaurs did not roam the earth, but teenagers with giant stereos certainly did.

Back then, if you were a teenager, your bedroom looked like the back room of a Radio Shack. You had a stereo system that took up half the wall. Not a cute little Bluetooth speaker—no, no. This thing had a turntable, an amplifier, and speakers the size of end tables. If you turned the volume up, the windows rattled, the dog hid under the porch, and your mother yelled your full name from three counties away.

And the music collection? Albums were thin, yes, but they were the size of pizza boxes. And every album had a jacket, and the jacket slid into a cover, and some artists released double albums, which meant you needed a forklift to move your collection. Then came eight-tracks (which lasted about as long as a snowball in July), then cassettes, which required their own storage system—usually a shoebox with the lid missing.

If you were lucky, you had a phone in your room. It was attached to the wall by a cord, and the receiver was attached to the base by another cord. If you were really lucky, you had the long cord, the one that let you walk around the room, change albums, and still talk to your best friend about absolutely nothing for two hours.

You also had an alarm clock—or a clock radio—because you needed something to wake you up so you could enjoy that magical sleep between the alarm going off and your parent entering the room to announce, “I said GET UP.” Today we call that the snooze button. Back then we called it “living dangerously.”

Some studious kids had a desk with a typewriter on it. If you had a Pica typewriter, your term papers looked longer, which felt like cheating but wasn’t. And there was almost never a TV in the bedroom. The TV lived in the den, a 25-inch RCA color set that weighed more than a small car. The whole family gathered around it, and since there was no remote, the youngest child served as the official channel changer. It built character.

Fast-forward to 2026. Kids don’t need a whole room anymore. They need a pocket. Their music, alarm, computer, TV, telephone, camera, calculator, flashlight, and speakers are all in one device. Pull out your phone and look at everything it does. It’s a miracle of modern engineering.

There’s a tool that lets us do things we never dreamed possible.

iPhone.

But here’s the thing: for all the problems life throws at us—grief, illness, broken relationships, guilt, confusion, decisions that keep us up at night—there is no app for that. There’s no setting to toggle, no update to install, no notification that says, “Your peace has arrived.”

When you don’t know what to do…
When you’ve lost something or someone…
When the doctor is puzzled…
When your child or parent won’t listen…
When you’ve messed up and don’t know how to make it right…
When you need direction and can’t find the map…

There is one place to go.

Jesus.

He doesn’t fit in your pocket.
He doesn’t need charging.
He doesn’t go out of date when the next model comes out.
And He’s the only One who can hold everything your phone can’t—your fears, your hopes, your grief, your sin, your future.

Kids today may need less space to grow up. But all of us—no matter our age—need the same Savior to grow into the people God calls us to be.

On March 18, 1944, the romantic wartime drama Casablanca took center stage at the 16th Academy Awards, winning three Oscars including Best Picture.

Starring Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman, “Casablanca” tells the story of an American expatriate torn between love and sacrifice in the shadow of World War II. Set in unoccupied Morocco, the film blended romance, suspense and patriotism at a time when global audiences were living through the war itself.

The film’s win for Best Picture cemented its place in Hollywood history. Director Michael Curtiz also took home the Oscar for Best Director, and the film earned a third award for Best Adapted Screenplay.

Though not initially predicted to sweep the ceremony, “Casablanca” resonated with audiences and Academy voters alike. Its themes of duty over desire and moral courage struck a chord during wartime America.

The film’s dialogue has since become iconic, with lines like “Here’s looking at you, kid” and “We’ll always have Paris” embedded in pop culture for generations. Bogart’s portrayal of Rick Blaine transformed him into a lasting symbol of cinematic cool, while Bergman’s performance remains one of the most celebrated in classic film history.

Over the decades, “Casablanca” has consistently ranked among the greatest films ever made, frequently appearing atop lists from the American Film Institute and other organizations.

March 18 marks not only a major milestone for a beloved film but also a reminder of Hollywood’s enduring power to capture emotion, history and hope on screen.

You know the moment. The meeting is wrapping up, chairs start shifting, and everyone thinks they’re about to head home. Then someone says the dreaded words: “Before we adjourn, I’ve got just one more thing.” Suddenly the agenda grows, the clock keeps ticking and what was supposed to be a quick meeting turns into a marathon. Around here, “one more thing” rarely means just one more thing.

Talent is common, but experience is rare. Here is how CAPA turns students into working professionals before they ever graduate. 

By Cole Gentry, Chief Marketing Officer at Northwestern State University

There is a moment of terrifying clarity that happens to every young artist. It usually strikes midway through a senior showcase or during the quiet drive home from an audition. It is the realization that raw talent, no matter how bright, is only a starting line. The world is full of people who can sing, paint, or write. The industry does not pay for potential. It pays for polish.

This is the hard truth of the creative life. The gap between having a gift and having a career is wide, and it is paved with rejection, technical demands, and the need for a relentless work ethic. Many young creatives hesitate here. They have the vision, yet they lack the professional-grade portfolio or the stage hours to make a casting director pause. They wait to start their careers until after graduation, only to find they are already years behind.

At Northwestern State University, inside the Mrs. H.D. Dear, Sr. and Alice E. Dear School of Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA), we operate under a different philosophy. We believe you cannot learn to be a professional by sitting in a classroom talking about it. You must do the work.

The halls of CAPA carry a specific energy. It is the sound of a piano practice room occupied in the early morning hours and the scent of oils in a painting studio late at night. Here, we do not view the arts as a hobby or a fragile dream. We treat them as a discipline.

This approach changes the trajectory of a student’s life.

When you walk through the doors of CAPA, you are not asked to wait for your turn. The hierarchy that exists at other institutions, where freshmen wait years to touch a camera or step into the spotlight, does not exist here. From your first semester, you are in the mix. You are auditioning for mainstage productions. You are hanging your work in gallery exhibitions. You are recording in professional studios and reporting for digital media outlets.

The faculty guiding this work are not retired observers. They are active artists, performers, and creators who understand the modern landscape of the industry. They know that a degree is necessary, but a reel is vital. They push students to build a body of work that stands up to scrutiny in New York, Los Angeles, or Atlanta.

Scott Burrell, Director of the Dear School of Creative and Performing Arts and Professor of Theatre, emphasizes that the curriculum bridges the gap between student and professional. “We don’t ask you to wait until graduation to become an artist,” Burrell says. “We hand you the tools and the stage on day one. By the time you leave, you’re not starting a career. You’re continuing one.”

The results of this immersion are etched into playbills and credit rolls across the nation.

Look at the numbers. Twelve alumni have landed on Broadway. Graduates have appeared in over 120 film and television productions. Thirty-two professional dance companies feature NSU-trained talent. Our alumni are defining the arts. They are the graphic designers shaping global brands, the journalists leading newsrooms, and the music educators inspiring the next generation. 

This success stems from a curriculum that balances creative freedom with technical rigor. Whether it is the NASAD-accredited Fine & Graphic Arts program, the elite ensembles of the Department of Music, or the Department of Theatre & Dance, one of only 150 NAST-accredited programs in the country, the standard is excellence.

We understand that talent is the fuel, but training is the engine. From Theatre and Music to Art and New Media, Journalism, & Communication Arts (NMJCA), our programs are defined by cutting-edge collaboration rather than outdated instruction. We prioritize career training that is pertinent to the industry and vital to the student. For example, NMJCA students are currently producing nationally award-winning podcast series. The Department of Music routinely brings Grammy-nominated producers into the studio to work alongside faculty and students. The Department of Art’s Design Center for in-house internships was recognized as one of only twenty elite models in a 2025 study by the Louisiana Board of Regents.

When an NSU student walks across the graduation stage, they carry a resume. They have a network of peers and mentors who open doors. They possess the confidence that comes from having done the job a hundred times before the first paycheck ever arrived.

The creative world is competitive, but it is not impenetrable. It yields to those who show up prepared. If you are ready to stop dreaming about the work and start doing it, you belong here. The studio is open. The lights are on.

Whether you seek to command the stage or master the craft behind the scenes, you will find your place within CAPA’s professionally oriented programs. The invitation is open to join the Demon family. Apply to CAPA today, schedule your visit, and let’s get to work.

Explore CAPA: https://www.nsu.la/capa 

Schedule a CAPA Tour: https://www.nsula.edu/admissions/campus-tours/ 

Apply for Admission: https://www.nsula.edu/admissions/how-to-apply/ 

Oh, how times have changed in the tournament bass fishing world. In the last 20 years, tournament bass fishing has had several things that have taken the sport to another level. The first being the most obvious, electronics and forward-facing sonar. But there have been a few other things like how anglers get information today. 

“Back in the day” as we old timers would say, getting information was sitting down with another angler and a paper lake map. You would use a highlighter to mark spots on the map where either he had caught bass before or places you might want to check. 

Anglers would spend hours staring at a waterproof paper map like it was the Holy Grail. We brought them along with us in the boat to make sure we hit every spot marked. We made notes on the map as to what we caught, what time we caught fish, what bait we caught them on and what depth the fish were. We made notes on the water temperature as well as wind direction. 

Maps were our main source of information on how a lake would set up for how we wanted to fish. Maps today are still very important, but now they’re on a screen, on our I-pads, cell phones and electronic units on our boats. 

But there were also other ways anglers got information just like they do today. Who has more information than an angler who guides on a particular body of water? It’s that guy that spends every day of the week taking people out fishing. This person is full of information that can be a real asset to a tournament bass fisherman. 

Also back in the day, we would meet a friend for lunch who maybe fishes a certain body of water frequently. He would tell you about spots that he knew about or had caught fish before. So, word of mouth was also a way we got information. 

Fast forward to 2026, and the information highway is insane. Today, there is so much information that the younger generation has grown up with that it’s mind blowing. Someone asked me before, “Can you get too much information?” 

Yes, too much information can create confusion and sidetrack you on what you need to be doing in order to compete in the tournament. Also, information is only good for so long, as bass fishing can change daily or even hourly. 

All anglers process information differently, and personally, I don’t like talking to a lot of anglers about what, how and where I need to fish. Over my 30-year career, I can only think of maybe twice that information actually paid off with either a win or cashing a check. 

To this day, I feel confident in my ability to find fish on my own. One of the first lessons I learned was that it’s hard to go and catch another angler’s fish. Even with good information about a certain spot, you still have to figure out boat positioning and the best way to approach the spot. 

A lot of people complain that today’s anglers are networking together and forming their own little information group, especially the rookies on tour. The young anglers today have come up through the ranks with college and high school fishing teams, where they communicate a lot. 

This is nothing new. Ever since professional bass fishing started, anglers have been forming partnerships with other anglers. That’s why anglers form small groups that travel and eat together, while developing true friendships and trust. 

But the younger generation of anglers today are doing some things that I feel may not be in good spirit of the sport. They have budgets they use to purchase weigh points or dots as they call it.  

That’s infringing on the integrity of the sport. This, in my opinion, is going too far and should not be allowed in tournament competition. 

Of course, just like so many other things today, money is a factor along with how much you have. Some of the younger anglers have budgets of $30,000 plus (provided by parents) to spend each season for weigh points. 

This is an unfair advantage whether you want to admit it or not. It’s proving the point that if you have money, you can compete for the win rather than just trying to cash a check.

It’s really hard to make it as a pro on your own. Today, you need that support system of information and money because it’s so difficult to fish against the best anglers on the planet on your own. It’s a different game today than it was 20 years ago.  

Through the whole season of Lent, I work on answering the question, “What am I giving up for Lent.”

A friend told me recently, “I’m simply frazzled.” Now, when a minister says “frazzled,” my imagination goes straight to cartoon mode. I pictured him with his hair standing straight up, soot on his face, clutching a smoldering Bible in one hand while trying to answer a phone call and a text message with the other. Ministry does that to us. Then I looked at my own calendar—those blank spaces I had optimistically filled in with “rest”—and I understood exactly what he meant.

There’s an old saying: “I’m so busy I don’t know if I’ve found a rope or lost a horse. “Some days, that feels less like a saying and more like a spiritual condition.

Our culture practically demands frazzled, frenetic activity. If we’re going to play the game, we’re expected to check email, Facebook, Instagram, and X like we’re on some sort of digital scavenger hunt. I left Facebook, I never tweeted, and my computer only checks email a couple of times a day. I do peek at Instagram—because that’s where my family hangs out—but even that can feel like a part-time job.

Maybe a good Lenten discipline would be to give up the tyranny of the immediate. If it doesn’t get done today, I’ll get to it tomorrow. And if it’s still sitting there tomorrow, maybe it didn’t need doing in the first place.

Now, I’m not suggesting you shirk your responsibilities. I’m suggesting we learn something about living for the long run, something our souls have been trying to tell us while we’ve been too busy checking notifications.

God took the seventh day off. You, however, will not—because I know you. So let me offer a substitute: two peace pockets a day.

A peace pocket is a ten-minute break where you turn off the phone, turn off the computer monitor, close the door, and do absolutely nothing. If anyone asks, tell them you’re about to “work very hard for the next ten minutes on doing nothing.” Only we could turn rest into a job description.

If you can’t take a day off, take two peace pockets and call me later.

We spend so much time ruminating over trifles. The disciples once “lost” Jesus—not because He was lost, but because they were. They finally found Him praying alone. Breathless, they announced, “The whole town is looking for you!” Jesus calmly replied that He had other places to go. In other words: “I’m not ruled by your urgency.”

Jesus had priorities. He didn’t let the trivial masquerade as the essential.

If God rested and Jesus set priorities, maybe we should take the hint. Maybe Lent is the perfect time to let go of the things that make us feel frazzled, frantic, and spiritually threadbare.

Then, perhaps, we can finally decide whether we’ve found a rope or lost a horse.

Lowell K. “Sandy” Robinson was a deputy for the Tulare County California Sheriff’s Department until he was elected Sheriff in 1951.  From that election until the election in 1966, Sandy had easily defeated all others who vied for the office.  The November 8, 1966, election day was a disaster for Sandy because he received only about half as many votes as his contender received.  On January 1, 1967, he turned his office and the title of sheriff over to the incoming sheriff.  

One of Sandy’s daily tasks was to retrieve his mail from post office box number 510 at the Visalia Post Office.  It was a task that had become so routine that he performed it without much thought.  It was just one of the routine details of his daily life such as putting on his shoes and grabbing his car keys.  Soon after the election, Sandy decided to leave Visalia, California and move to Baxter Springs, Kansas to be near his parents and siblings.  In the chaos of moving, Sandy forgot to return his post office box key.  It remained on his keyring.  Sandy was still getting things settled in Baxter Springs when a local hotel manager resigned and moved to another town.  The hotel owner offered Sandy the hotel manager position and he quickly accepted.  Sandy had not set up his new address in Baxter Springs when he was hired for his new job.  When he visited the post office, he requested the same post office box which had been used by the previous manager just in case any mail intended for the hotel was delivered to that box.  After completing the necessary paperwork, the postal clerk gave Sandy the box key.  Stamped on one side of the key was the post office box number.  Sandy was surprised when he looked at the key and saw it stamped with the number 510.  Sandy had the same post office box number in Baxter Springs that he had in Visalia some 1650 miles to the west.

Sandy shrugged off the coincidence.  He made sure the new key worked, retrieved a few pieces of mail from the box, then put the key on his key ring with little thought.  Nearly two years went by, and checking his mailbox at the Baxter Springs Post Office became just another item on his daily routine.  Then in August 1969, Sandy pulled out his keyring and opened box number 510.  He retrieved the mail and was in the process of locking his post office box when he noticed that another key on his key ring was stamped “510.”  That is when he finally realized that he had forgotten to return his key to the Visalia Post Office.  Then, he wondered which of the two keys he had been using for nearly two years to get his mail.  Other than normal wear, the keys were practically identical.  Sandy tried both keys in each of the mailboxes in the Baxter Springs Post Office.  Although they would not open any other box at that post office, both keys opened post office box number 510.            

Sources:

1.     The Wichita Eagle (Wichita, Kansas), August 25, 1969, p.5.

2.     The Daily Item (Port Chester, New York), October 1, 1969, p.8.

3.     “Lowell Sandy Robinson,” FindAGrave.com, accessed March 1, 2026, https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/28198671/lowell-sandy-robinson.

On March 11, 1970, the beginning of the end for one of the most influential bands in music history quietly unfolded. On that day, a press release tied to the upcoming solo album of Paul McCartney included a self-interview in which he confirmed he was no longer working with The Beatles.

Though tensions had been building within the band for months, McCartney’s public comments made what many feared official: The Beatles were effectively finished.

Formed in Liverpool in 1960, The Beatles — comprised of McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr — had transformed popular music in less than a decade. From early hits like “She Loves You” to groundbreaking albums such as “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” the group reshaped recording techniques, songwriting standards and global celebrity culture.

By 1969, however, creative differences and business disputes had strained relationships within the band. Recording sessions for what would become “Let It Be” were famously tense, later chronicled in documentaries and studio footage that revealed the fractures behind the harmonies.

McCartney’s March 11 announcement did not immediately result in legal dissolution, but it signaled to fans around the world that the Beatles’ collaborative era had ended. The official breakup would follow in 1970 after legal actions were filed.

The news stunned fans and dominated international headlines. For many, the breakup symbolized the close of the 1960s themselves — a cultural shift away from the optimism and experimentation that defined the decade.

In the years that followed, each member embarked on successful solo careers, producing enduring hits and continuing to shape music independently. Yet the impact of The Beatles as a collective remains unmatched.

More than five decades later, March 11 stands as a pivotal date in music history — the day the world learned that the band that defined a generation was no more.

You ever notice how life has a way of barging in like a neighbor who doesn’t bother knocking? One minute you’re minding your own business, sipping coffee, feeling almost in control of your day—and the next, life taps you on the shoulder and says, “Scoot over, I’m sitting here now.” Around here, we treat interruptions the way we treat seagulls at the beach: we try to enjoy the view, but we keep one eye on the sky because we know something unpleasant might fall at any moment.

But what if we’ve been misreading the interruptions? What if the things we label as nuisances, delays, and potholes are actually holy things—God’s way of nudging us, slowing us, or getting our attention before we wander too far down the road of selfimportance and illusion of control?

We usually treat interruptions as spiritual speed bumps—annoying, jarring, and always arriving at the worst possible moment. But have you considered that the interruptions in your life might be holy things? They might be God’s gracious way of getting your attention, redirecting your steps, or opening a door you didn’t even know was there.

Lent is a season of selfimposed interruption, if you observe it. It disrupts our usual habits and routines. Asking someone what they gave up for Lent is a bit like asking about New Year’s resolutions—we don’t always want to admit how fragile our commitments are. We resist resolutions and Lenten disciplines because they interrupt the normal choices we make. They threaten the illusion that we are in control.

But Lent brings us the gift of holy interruption. By intentionally letting go of our triedandtrue rhythms, we make room for new life to spring forth in the garden of the Resurrection. Lent is a minorkey season that unsettles the usual. It prepares us for the massive interruption of human history called the Resurrection.

Everything about Jesus was an interruption. His life, death, burial, resurrection, ascension, and reign as Lord and Savior interrupt human selfishness and sinfulness. Following Him certainly changes the course of your wellplanned life. He steps into our stories not to tidy them up but to transform them.

So, the next time you are interrupted, be encouraged. God may be allowing you to put aside your need to control and opening up an opportunity to experience His love and grace. God often shows up when we are not looking for Him. His love and grace can be found in holy interruptions.

Each and every day we wake up and make a decision in the first five minutes to either be happy, angry or sad. It’s a choice! Now, there are exceptions for those who have a mental illness or might be going through some tough times, but in general, everyone else makes a choice. 

As anglers, we also have choices to make when we’re on the water whether it’s in a tournament or just out fun fishing. So much of the time, the choices we make say a lot about who we are as a person. 

Today, having so many boats on the water means there are a lot of eyes out there — people who are watching every move you make as an angler. 

That’s why it’s important to set a good example and use discretion when fishing around other anglers. Over the last few years, I’ve had a few encounters that had me shaking my head in disbelief. Anglers do dumb things that make everyone scratch their heads and ask, “What are you doing?” 

To quote the famous line from the 1994 Tom Hanks movie Forrest Gump as he was told by his momma, “Stupid is as stupid does.” This quote pretty much sums up how too many boaters and anglers alike handle themselves on the water today. 

Here are a couple of examples: Last year while on Toledo Bend, I had two incidents on the same day! While fishing a point in the back of a cove, I was casting my Carolina rig directly up on the point in five feet of water. On this day I was scouting for an event I had coming up in three days. 

As I’m fishing this point, another boat with two anglers (who looked like tournament anglers) came around the backside of the point (opposite from me) and gradually started to turn and fish their way in my direction about 100 yards away. Now at this stage, I’m really OK and feel like there’s not really a problem since I’m thinking this boat will go behind me. 

Then he did the unthinkable as he turned his boat 90 degrees and ran right over the spot I was fishing! He literally trolled right over my line between me and the point! Outranged at his stupidity, I threw my hands in the air and asked him, “What are you doing? How dumb are you?”

He turned and looked at me like I had three heads and seemed bewildered at my question. So, I repeated my question where the entire north end of Toledo Bend could hear me. 

As I lectured him on right and wrong and the dumb decision he just made, he turned his trolling motor on high and got away from me as quick as he could without even a response to my lecture. It was as if he never saw or heard me! I mean I was the ONLY BOAT fishing this point after all; how could he not hear me?

Later that same day, I had another incident with an angler who was fishing with his grandfather and his son. Basically, the same situation; I’m fishing a spot just off a bluff close to the boat road when this boat came running down the boat road and shut down behind me about 30 yards away. 

As I’m fishing this spot just off the bluff, this boat starts to idle behind me and is going away from me. So, at this point I’m thinking he’s doing the right thing and fishing away from me … or so I thought!

But no, that’s not what he did! He actually turned his boat 180 degrees and cut between me and the spot I was fishing about 20 yards in front of me, right where I was throwing my lure! 

Once again, I’m dumbfounded and about to lose my mind by his action. I told him it was a good thing he had his young son in the boat because otherwise he too would have gotten a verbal tongue lashing like the other angler I chatted with earlier that day! Again, I asked him the same question, “How dumb are you?” 

But during these times we live in, it’s just another day on the water and incidents like these are now commonplace. Anglers and pleasure boaters continue to do the dumbest things I’ve ever seen.

 At the end of the day, I’m exhausted pretty much every time I go on the lake as I’m always on high alert for anglers cutting me off or someone doing something else dumb.

The problem isn’t just on the lake, it’s also at the boat ramp, as people have totally forgotten what the word courtesy even means. So many boat owners have no understanding of boat ramp etiquette and the process of launching a boat! IT’S NOT HARD, PEOPLE! 

If you want to be entertained one day, take the time to go to a boat ramp and watch the comedy show of people who can’t back a boat down a boat ramp or load a boat on to a trailer. It’s hilarious and makes for great entertainment!

So, my advice today to all boaters/anglers who understand how to act on any body of water is to have patience and be prepared to help people launch their boat while teaching them how to do this the right way. 

On the fishing side of things, you’ll also need patience as other anglers continue to cut you off as you’re going down a stretch of boat docks or a tree line. 

So many boat owners and anglers have no idea about the unwritten rules of the water, or as I call it, common sense! I guess it’s up to us old anglers to teach and share our knowledge because they aren’t going to learn it from anyone else. Good luck, good fishing and stay safe!

Artificial intelligence is everywhere right now — writing emails, generating art, passing professional exams, and promising to “revolutionize” just about every industry. Depending on who you ask, it’s either the greatest productivity tool ever created or the beginning of the robot takeover. But for all the headlines about automation replacing human jobs, there’s a quieter truth we don’t talk about enough: some skills just can’t be downloaded. This week’s cartoon plays with the gap between tech-world hype and real-world reality, reminding us that while algorithms may be impressive, there’s still plenty of value in good old-fashioned hands-on know-how.

March 4 holds a unique place in pop culture as National Grammar Day, a lighthearted observance that has grown in popularity thanks to social media, memes, and the internet’s enduring fascination with language.

The date itself is a playful nod to grammar rules, sounding like the command “March forth.” Over the years, it has become a day when grammar enthusiasts, writers, educators, and casual word lovers alike celebrate the quirks of language.

Online, March 4 often brings viral debates over Oxford commas, homophones, and common grammatical pet peeves. Brands, news outlets, and public figures frequently join in, posting tongue-in-cheek corrections and wordplay that engage audiences in a way few other observances do.

National Grammar Day also highlights how language shapes pop culture. Catchphrases, slang, and internet shorthand evolve rapidly, reflecting how communication adapts to technology and social trends. What was once considered “incorrect” grammar often becomes widely accepted usage, blurring the line between rules and cultural norms.

In an era dominated by text messages, emojis, and memes, March 4 serves as both a celebration and a reminder: language is alive, constantly changing, and deeply connected to how people express identity and humor.

From classrooms to comment sections, National Grammar Day proves that even the smallest details of language can spark big conversations — and plenty of laughs.

In 1965, Washoe was born in West Africa.  Ten months later, she and four other youngsters, Dar, Pili, Tatu, and Moja, were brought to the United States to be raised by foster parents Allen and Beatrix Gardner.  Allen and Beatrix played with them, talked to them, fed them, chased them, ran from them, gave them a comfortable and intellectually stimulating home, and all the other things most parents do to bond with and raise their children.  Washoe and the others acted very much like children of their age with one exception, they could not speak.  Fostering Washoe and the others was difficult because they were unable to communicate vocally, but Allen and Beatrix both worked as scientists at the University of Nevada in Reno and understood that getting the desired result usually took a long time to achieve.  One of the most important tools in their arsenal as scientists was patience.  Most doctors concluded that they would never be able to communicate because they all lacked a specific gene, the FOXP2 gene, which is essential for the normal development of speech.  They would never be able to speak.  They accepted the prognosis that the youngsters would never be able to communicate verbally, but Allen and Beatrix were determined that they would be able to communicate.

Rather than trying to get Washoe and the others to speak verbally, the Gardners stopped using verbal communication around them altogether.  When in their presence, Allen and Beatrix communicated with each other using American Sign Language (ASL).  The Gardners feared that trying to communicate with them verbally and with sign language simultaneously would be confusing.  The Gardners hoped the youngsters would learn by watching them communicate with each other.  Washoe was especially interested.  They used the proper sign language to each other when Washoe was eating, bathing, and while she was being dressed.  They invented exciting games; introduced new toys, books, and magazines; all of which were designed to stimulate sign language.  They made scrapbooks of Washoe’s favorite pictures and used the proper sign language for whatever was shown in the photos.  Dinner time began with Allen and Beatrix shaping their dominant hands into a flattened “O” with the fingertips touching the thumb then tapping the fingertips to their lips once or twice.  In American Sign Language, this is the sign for “food” or “to eat.”  Then one day at dinner time, long after doctors and other experts had given up hope that she would ever be able to communicate, Washoe told Allen and Beatrix that she was hungry by signing the word “food.”  The Gardners were overjoyed.  Within a short time, Washoe could tell the Gardners that she was thirsty and that she wanted to play with her toys by using sign language.  She quickly learned the sign for “more” to let the Gardners know she was still hungry, still thirsty, or that she wanted more toys.  Her vocabulary continued to grow.  Then she began to learn to answer questions such as “Who is that?” and “What do you want?” 

As her vocabulary grew, the Gardners noticed something extraordinary.  Washoe began teaching the other youngsters the sign language she knew, and they were signing back correctly.  With the help of the Gardners, Washoe and the others learned a sign language vocabulary of hundreds of words and expressions.  Washoe became the first of her kind to learn a human language and teach it to another primate.  Washoe and the others were all chimpanzees.

Sources:

1.      “Friends of Washoe,” accessed February 22, 2026, https://www.friendsofwashoe.org/learn/chci_history/project_washoe_begins.html.

2.     “Meet Tatu and Loulis—the last of the ‘talking’ chimpanzees,” National Geographic, accessed February 22, 2026, https://www.nationalgeographic.com/animals/article/chimpanzee-sign-language-experiments.

3.     “FOXP2 gene,” MedlinePlus.com, accessed February 22, 2026, https://medlineplus.gov/genetics/gene/foxp2/.

I did not put my sense of humor away for Lent. Honestly, I’m not sure I could if I tried. My sense of humor has a mind of its own and occasionally needs to be told, “Hush now, we’re in church.” I once preached a funeral with the “Exit” sign burned out over the doors we’d be leaving through. My brain, unhelpfully, started processing the symbolism — we all exit eventually — and before I knew it, my mouth was dangerously close to sharing that observation with the grieving family. That’s when I realized: for Lent, I may fast from many things, but my sense of humor is apparently not one of them.

And speaking of Lent, that little moment of funeral foolishness reminded me how this season always brings out our quirks, our questions, and our well-intentioned attempts at spiritual discipline. Many congregations observe Lenten practices, and you can usually spot us by the annual question: “So… what are you giving up for Lent?” Some of my Roman Catholic friends give up meat on Fridays, which has sparked many a conversation — and, fun fact, is the reason McDonald’s invented the fish sandwich. Stick with these Ponderings long enough and you’ll be ready for Jeopardy!

Which brings me to one of my favorite Lenten stories.

John Smith was the only Protestant to move into a large Catholic neighborhood. On the first Friday of Lent, John was outside grilling a big, juicy steak. Meanwhile, all his neighbors were dutifully eating cold tuna fish. This went on every Friday. Finally, the Catholic men decided something had to be done — John was tempting them beyond what any human should endure.

So they set out to convert him.

They talked with him, brought him to church, and the priest sprinkled water over him saying, “You were born a Baptist, you were raised a Baptist, and now you are a Catholic.” The men rejoiced. Their Lenten temptations were over.

Until the next year.

The first Friday of Lent rolled around, and just as the neighborhood sat down to their tuna, the unmistakable aroma of steak drifted through the air. They rushed to John’s yard, ready to remind him of his new commitments.

And there he stood, sprinkling water over his steak, saying, “You were born a cow, you were raised a cow, and now you are a fish.”

It’s funny — and it’s also a gentle reminder. It’s not what our neighbors call us that defines us. It’s not even what we call ourselves. Our actions, our habits, our quiet choices — those speak louder than our reputations or our labels.

Lent invites us into that quieter truth. Not the showy kind, not the “look what I’m giving up” kind, but the kind that shapes us from the inside out.

This Lent is Jesus shaping your heart and your journey to Easter?

Women from across North Louisiana are invited to take part in a free, one-day vocal workshop, “Find Your Voice: Empowering Women Through Song,” set for Saturday, March 7, in Ruston.

The workshop, hosted by Southern A’Chord Chorus, is made possible through a state arts grant and will be held from 8:30am to 3pm in the fellowship hall of the Presbyterian Church of Ruston, located at 212 N. Bonner St.

Led by nationally recognized vocal coach Robin Curtis of Texarkana, the event will focus on healthy vocal production, ensemble singing and skill-building for women singers of varying experience levels. The day will include large-group instruction as well as smaller breakout sessions.

Curtis has decades of successful vocal coaching in her background and currently teaches voice in Texarkana, where her focus is on pop and pageant preparation. She has also worked with multiple choruses and quartets that have won numerous medals in competition from regional to international levels. One of her most recent accolades is serving as education director for the national women’s singing group, TRU Harmony A Cappella.

“Group singing can have amazing health benefits for all ages, both physical and psychological,” Curtis said. “If you can carry a tune, then you can learn new vocal skills to improve and reap those benefits.”

While the workshop itself is geared toward participants, the public is invited to attend the concluding portion of the day, when singers will share what they have learned during the session through a short performance.

Pre-registration by Feb. 28 is encouraged, though walk-ins will be welcomed as space allows. Open to women ages 16 and older, the workshop includes lunch for all participants. To pre-register, go to bit.ly/women-sing.

For more information about Southern A’Chord, interested singers are encouraged to visit the website southernachordchorus.org or the Facebook page Southern A’Chord Chorus. The women’s a cappella community chorus was formed in 2024 and draws members from several parishes.

“Even though Southern A’Chord is based in Ruston,” said director Candice Bassett, of Grayson, “we consider the community we serve much bigger. We are hoping to reach women who are looking for a way to find their voice, gain confidence and be part of something that can empower them to do even more. Singing together bridges gaps and breaks down barriers, helping us see we are more alike than different.”

The workshop is supported by a grant from the Louisiana Division of the Arts, the Office of Cultural Development, and the Department of Culture, Recreation and Tourism in cooperation with the Louisiana State Arts Council, as administered by the Northeast Louisiana Arts Council. Funding has also been provided by the National Endowment for the Arts.

Additional local funding comes from Century Next Bank, Jonesboro State Bank, Origin Bank and the CPA firm of Kenneth D. Folden & Co. in Jonesboro.

When you’re young and full of pee and vinegar, you think you’re bullet proof. You have a younger mindset that nothing can happen to you. But nothing could be further from the truth. For an angler, or anyone who spends a great deal of time in the outdoors, there are three words you never want to hear, “You have Melanoma.”

This is the number one form of cancer that takes more lives than any other. Like so many others, I thought something like this would never happen to me. But God had other plans as that day came for me in June of 2023. Never in a million years did I think I would be that guy who would have to battle cancer, but here’s my story. 

A couple of years earlier I started seeing a dermatologist on a regular basis. Then one day while my sister-in-law was cutting my hair, she asked if I knew about this small black dot on the back of my ear. Since none of us can see the back of our ears, I had never seen this spot. She suggested I get it looked at, so I took her advice and made an appointment. 

It was March of 2023 when I had this appointment, and my dermatologist suggested we try some chemo cream to help get rid of this spot. Well, after two weeks of chemo cream the spot went away. I thought my worries were over until mid-April when the spot returned. So once again, I made another appointment scheduled for the first week of May. 

While I wasn’t overly concerned, we were planning a family vacation to Disney World the last week of May and I wanted this spot off my ear. But as fate would have it, my dermatologist had to go out of town to attend a convention, and my May appointment was cancelled. So, they rebooked me for the last week of June which was basically eight weeks.  

Again, at this point, I’m still not overly concerned but really wanted this off my ear. Well, let’s just say when I returned for my appointment the last week of June, this spot had ulcerated and was now a deep purple color. Then the day of my appointment, the minute I was called to the back, the nurse took a look at my ear, and she instantly got very concerned and rushed out of the room to get my dermatologist. 

This got my attention and now I’m nervous as my doctor walked in and said, “Oh, Steve this is not good, and I’ll go ahead and prepare you that this is probably going to come back positive for Melanoma.” 

She biopsied the spot and overnighted it to a lab for testing. The next day around 10 that morning, she called and told me, “You have Melanoma.” My heart sank and I was a little overwhelmed and wasn’t sure what to think. But my dermatologist did an outstanding job of reassuring me that everything will be OK, as hopefully we’ve caught this early. 

To shorten this story, I had two ear surgeries to remove the upper portion of my left ear and four difficult immunotherapy sessions that were hard to get through due to my reaction to the drug OPDIVO. But since then, all of my scans have been clear and bloodwork has been good. 

Immediately I started the first year going to M.D. Anderson in Houston every three months. Then in late 2025, they scheduled me for testing every six months which is where I’m at today. Hopefully, if my PET scans, MRI’s and bloodwork continue to be clear, I’ll soon be moving to testing annually for the rest of my life.  

The one thing my cancer doctor has told me is that Melanoma is the worst form of cancer that can hide in the body for long periods of time. It can come back at any point and that’s why I’ll continue to go back to M.D. Anderson from now on. 

Here’s my advice to anyone (especially anglers) when it comes to protecting yourself from the harmful rays of the sun. First, understand this: Melanoma does not discriminate, and no one is immune to getting this form of cancer. Wear long sleeve SPF shirts with built-in sunscreen. Wear long pants instead of shorts to protect your legs. Wear a wide brim hat — even if you look goofy. I also wear fishing gloves to help protect my hands. 

Always apply sunscreen to any portion of the skin that might be exposed. Do everything you can to protect yourself from the sun’s harmful UV rays. Because the words you never want to hear are, “You have Melanoma.”

Ever notice how quickly opinions travel faster than facts? This week’s cartoon plays with that idea, leaning into the humor of how we debate, react and sometimes overreact in the digital age. Inspired by the game-show energy of Jeopardy!, it’s a lighthearted reminder that not every buzzer needs to be hit — and sometimes it’s okay to wait for the full answer.