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Terry and Kim Kovel King Features Syndicate Mettlach, Germany, is a town known for manufacturing beer steins at the Villeroy and Boch factories since about 1842. They made all types of pottery. It started in 1809 when Pierre-Joseph Boch established a company in the remains of a cathedral built in 786 A.D. To avoid destroying the trees used for the factory’s fuel, a coal-burning kiln was developed by 1816. Famous artists were hired to create the designs. There were eight V&B factories making ceramics. In 1836, Mettlach merged with Villeroy & Boch, forming a company run by Euge...

Time for Change Recently my sons had a future vision of returning to Disneyland in which they exclaimed their desire to ride Splash Mountain once more.

EATONTON — Here in the heart of Georgia’s Piedmont, Native American history has been said to date back as much as 3,000 years — long before the first dairy farm came about in Putnam County, and long before Joel Chandler Harris began writing folk tales which were popular in his day, but not so much anymore. Although it would probably be politically incorrect in these times to create an Uncle Remus narrating stories, the lessons and logic of those tales remain celebrated and useful for their insightfulness. Our world is abundantly populated with folk slugging the tar baby today. Harris w...

Graham Greene (left) and Maria Aurora Couto | Photograph of Maria Aurora Couto by Frederick Noronha. At 19, I was obsessed with a man I did not know. Graham Greene’s novels were among the works prescribed for my Master’s degree. My admiration for Greene’s writing was clouded by irritation with critical assessments that labelled Greene a “Catholic” novelist (along with Evelyn Waugh). These analyses, often misguided, I believed, by highly structured theological arguments, diminished and even erased the tragic dimensions of our lives and world. Greene’s skills as ...

The Trial of Winnie the Pooh A solemn silence turned collective gasp in the District of Columbia Woke Circuit courtroom as two bailiffs entered the door beside the jury box with the small cream-colored bear suspended between them, his stumpy hind legs wheeling fruitlessly to seek purchase in the unavailing air. The Queen of Hearts, presiding, banged her gavel as the little bear was seated at the table for the defense beside another rather small, darkish, furtive figure. The Queen of Hearts peered over her half-glasses at the defendant and snarled, “State your full name and residence.” “...