Tom Poland: The emperor's hem | Tom Poland
In the late 1990s, a time that seems ancient, I touched the emperor’s hem.
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In the late 1990s, a time that seems ancient, I touched the emperor’s hem.
The orchestra is quiet, as winter holds the conductor’s baton. Still, a song comes to mind. “California Dreamin” where much is brown and gray — every shade of brown and
Editor’s note: Tom Poland’s column typically publishes Monday in the Index-Journal. Because this offering is timely and would become outdated before its typical publication date, we have opted to share
Small towns have that one eccentric person people long remember. Lincolnton, Georgia, had Miss Lucy Glaze. As I write I see a woman dressed in black, like Granny Clampett, racing
Among the dusty bottles and vases stand three alcoholic potions. I bought the matador-like bottle in Madrid when I traveled by train through hard, brown Spain. Next to it stands