For those of us that were involved in the media when Chris Koster was Cass County prosecuting attorney in the mid-1990s, there was an old joke: the most dangerous place in Cass County was between Koster and a television camera.

Early voting has started and election day is less than two weeks away and the comment I’ve heard regularly is “I have no idea what Amendments 4 and 5 mean.”

Saturday morning, I joined a fairly-large group of people to celebrate the ribbon cutting of the new golf driving range in Adrian. It was an idea of Mayor Matt Cunningham just over a year ago and through the work of the city and various businesses and organizations became a reality pretty quickly.

Well, that was certainly a Fourth of July for the books. What started and ended as a beautiful summer day was anything but beautiful midday as the winds and rain came passing through town. It was nearly as brief as it was intense, but the wake of damage left behind will be the talk of the town for years to come.

I remember when they started giving us math “word” problems in elementary school. Instead of just having to figure out some multiplication or long-division problem, they put a bunch of words in so you had to figure out what the questions were.

Sunday morning, somewhere between 2 and 3 a.m., summer officially began. I guess I wanted to observe the event first-hand as I laid awake the entire night.

The past couple of weeks I have shared some memories about my dad. It seems impossible he has been gone for nearly three decades because so many memories remain so fresh in my head.

As I wrote last week, I have spent a lot of time recently thinking about my dad. Partly because of Father’s Day, but also as I age it becomes so much easier to compare my life with his.

I don’t know if it’s because Father’s Day is coming up in a few weeks, or if something else is tugging at my heartstrings, but I have been thinking a lot about my dad recently.

We sometimes do get to experience those once-in-a-lifetime events, things which we may have dreamed about but never knew if it could come true. I got one of those this past weekend as Leslie and I took a quick jaunt to Indiana.

I read with great interest the article in last week’s paper about the first year of schools enforcing the no cellphones during the school day. As we older folks know, but some of you young’uns might not be aware, phones were not always allowed.

Those of you who are regulars looking at this page may notice a new version of my smiling face attached to this column. I have a new picture.

For a person who only acknowledges one 6:30 in a day, the one followed by p.m., early-morning weather warnings Monday were a quite rude awakening.

I woke up Tuesday morning and discovered one of the most wonderful things: the miracle of spring has arrived. I’m not talking about just the weather; I am talking about the sudden burst of colors that fill the landscape.

I try to shy away from controversial matters. Normally getting in the middle of some political debate deteriorates and becomes like the old adage: “Never get in a wrestling match with a pig. You’ll both end up dirty and the pig will enjoy it.”

Since the deadline for this week’s paper is prior to the announced results of the area elections, we have no way of knowing whether or not voters in Harrisonville approved $38 million in bonds for facility improvements and additions.

I decided it was time to update my blog as a new baseball season is underway, but when I looked at the existing site I saw everything from 2025 was no longer available as well as several previous …

Nobody likes taxes. Whole wars, including the American Revolution, have been fought over taxation. However, at the end of the day taxes are a necessity, the question always becomes how much is enough and how are we collecting revenue?

There’s a classic rock tune that proclaims “It never rains in Southern California.” I don’t know much about that as I’ve only been there once, but what I can tell you it always seems to rain in Oklahoma (see, it kind of rhymed with the song.)

The bizarre history of the Bizarre Bazaar appears to be finally coming to a close.

Every morning, I open my email and I am absolutely stunned by the number of messages I have accumulated. It seems at times I spend hours deleting emails only to find a whole new batch suddenly piled up.

The gang around the office hear the same words out of my mouth virtually every week: “What am I going to write a column about?”

To say I am disappointed this week would be an understatement. After writing a bunch of words praising the wonderous works of Punxsutawney Phil, the darn rodent came out and said we would be having six more weeks of winter.

Being as how it is Valentine’s Day weekend, I am sure my wife, Leslie, was assuming I would share some notes about our love for one another, like how we spent our first Feb. 14 together fine dining at Cracker Barrel in Ft. Smith, Arkansas.

As a general rule, as the oldest guy in the office and the boss, my staff tends to listen and absorb tidbits of knowledge I pass along.