We were privileged to contribute to the Navarre Centennial celebration Saturday night. Our very own Jonathan Crider, Ph.D., served as guest speaker and offered a wonderful perspective on the past century of the place we proudly call home. Jon knows this history better than anyone on our team, having researched and written the historical stories for Navarre Press years ago, back when he was part of our staff. We used to tease him that writing for the paper was his first glimpse into life as Sandi Kemp’s future son-in-law. He passed every test with flying colors and was warmly welcomed into both our family and the Kemp family.
That’s the question I’ve had to ask myself. My answer is a resounding “no,” but ultimately, what matters most is how others perceive me. If the general perception is that I sometimes come across that way, then I must acknowledge that. Public perception carries weight, more than I’d like to admit, even to myself.
Military leaders in the Florida Panhandle are facing logistical challenges that directly impact their ability to maintain operational readiness. During the Military Bases Update hosted by the Santa Rosa County Economic Development Office last week, Air Force and Navy leadership shared insights into their missions and discussed areas where community partnerships could support their personnel and infrastructure.
Last week I was writing about my critics and this week I started scanning pages of one hundred-year-old copies of the Milton Gazette, which is now the Santa Rosa Press Gazette. I found the following printed on May 1, 1925 – which could have been my column last week – just said in a different way…
I realize we are at the point where, if there was an eighth day added to the week, college football would be played on it.
I just don’t understand why NCAA Division II has to jump on the ship. Is it too much to ask for D-II to avoid playing college football games on Friday nights?
Years ago, I was displaying a friend’s rare Bible collection at a pastor’s conference. He put me up in a nice hotel. The next morning upon exiting my room, I walked to the bank of elevators and pushed the down button. The doors opened, I stepped inside, pushed the “L” button, then stood facing the doors, staring ahead as the elevator made its descent. The elevator slowed, stopped, a chime sounded, but the doors did not open. I had the sense that I was being watched. Turning around, I discovered it was the rear doors that had opened, and other guests, smirks on their faces, were waiting for me to exit.
