Columns

When it comes to artificial intelligence and technology are you pro or con? Or have you even thought about it? If you’re over 60, I’m sure you’ve told your loved ones a story of your childhood. How you played outside from dawn to dusk with siblings and neighborhood kids. How your best “toys” were only limited by your imagination. Unlike today, where kids are face planted in iphones, ipads, video games, virtual reality devices and numerous other contraptions that seem to multiply yearly.

What's gonna happen in Lake Providence every twoto- three months? First, the power will go out at the drop of a hat. Second, the water is going to be off a great many times throughout the year. These two issues have always been a part of our town's biology and culture. In fact, it is accepted as, 'business as usual'. However, both are quite unacceptable and absolutely ridiculous.

“Take your hand. Put it on the end of your nose. That’s where your business stops.” A quote told to countless nosey children with too many questions. Not really an accurate statement though, because our business extends far beyond the bridge of our nose. Just ask my mom, who’s been elbows deep in my grandfather’s business for over a year now. “Business” is too vague of a word. I believe “responsibility” would better serve in this instance.

I think so much about the word community. How I longed for it in my years away from here because I have never witnessed or experienced a community as all-encompassing as this one. How free I often felt without it. How deeply I treasure being back in it now and how mad, in the insane sense, loving it can make me.

As a child, we moved around a lot. (A long story). I think I was nine or ten when we moved into an old two story pre-civil war house in Tallulah. I had eight siblings, and there were still six of us at home, one of whom was older than me, and four younger. The house was huge; it was drafty; it was spooky, and we loved it. For the first time, we had plenty of room. It was two stories with a winding staircase, a banister made for sliding, and a wraparound porch with a swing set. There were fireplaces in every room, but I can’t remember if we ever lit any of them. Space heaters provided the only heat. The first floor had the living room, two absolutely huge bedrooms, the kitchen, and a butler’s closet. And one bathroom for the eight of us. A drafty, huge bathroom with a clawfoot tub that was so large you had to enter it almost head first. I still don’t like clawfoot tubs. The second floor had three huge bedrooms, although the younger kids were too scared to sleep in them. And it had an attic. The attic had a fire escape. It was a dark, musty room that we never utilized for anything except to play. But it was also the source of our fear.

The Banner won a bunch of awards last week; one of them was for the late Billy Colman's opinion column. This Saturday marks one year since Billy died suddenly, and we felt moved to acknowledge, once again, what he and his work meant to us and to our community. So we are reprinting below the column that won him the Sam Hanna Award for Best Regular Column. It originally appeared in the February 22, 2024 issue of the Banner. It's signed – as all his columns were always signed – with his long-time slogan: 'But, hey, that's just my opinion.' Co-publisher Cassie Condrey won second place in the best regular column category for her story about Billy just after his death in our May

I never valued the significance of jury duty until I found myself the victim of a crime. This was many years ago when I worked at a local video store during the evenings, and commuted to Louisiana Tech during the day. One night, as I locked the doors to the store and was walking to my car behind the building, a man wearing a mask came out of nowhere holding a gun, demanding the money bag from the store.

The blank spaces in the paper are the stories Billy would’ve written for this week. They are holes in our coverage for the week. They speak to expanding circles of holes in our knowledge, our connection to our community, and to the writing and work that he would have done, that he will no longer do, now that he is gone. Knowledge he would have given you that you will no longer have, not in the same way, now that he is gone.

Did you know that according to the National Institute of Health, a person’s brain does not fully mature until the age of 25? It explains a lot, but it’s complicated. The prefrontal cortex, responsible for complex thinking and decision-making, is the last part of the brain to fully develop.

For Our Health By Amy Hale In a world buzzing with digital distractions and fast-paced living, there’s a quiet revolution happening right in our backyards. It's not powered by apps or screens—but by soil, sun, seeds, and sweat.