Happy Birthday, Wikipedia!

January 15, 2026January 15, 2026 / Katie Winkler / 1 Comment

Every January still brings a little spark of that old classroom rhythm — the sense of fresh starts, shiny new laptops, and the promise of innovative ideas. Even in retirement, I find myself paying attention to the tools, like Generative AI that continue to shape how students learn and how all of us make sense of the world. This year, one of those tools is celebrating a milestone: Wikipedia just turned twenty‑five. A quarter‑century of open collaboration, spirited debate, and dedicated volunteers tending the largest living reference work ever created. As it reaches this milestone, I’ve been thinking about how much it has influenced the way we teach research, develop curiosity, and encourage critical thinking.

A Starting Point That Changed the Classroom

When Wikipedia launched in 2001, it felt like a grand experiment. Could strangers on the internet really build a reliable encyclopedia together? Twenty‑five years later, the answer is complicated in the best possible way. Wikipedia now contains millions of articles in hundreds of languages, all maintained by a global community of volunteer editors. It’s messy, transparent, and constantly evolving — which is exactly why it became such a powerful tool for students.

When I was teaching at Blue Ridge Community College in Flat Rock, North Carolina, I never allowed Wikipedia as a source in research papers. Most teachers didn’t. But I always encouraged my students to use it as a starting point. So many of them would come to me with enormous, unwieldy topics — “gun control,” “immigration,” “the death penalty,” “global warming.” Wikipedia helped them narrow their focus. They could skim the broad strokes, learn the vocabulary, and begin to see where the real scholarly conversations were happening.

Then there were those glorious lists at the bottom of each article! I used to tell students, “Scroll all the way down. That’s where the good stuff is.” Wikipedia’s citations often led them to peer‑reviewed journals, reputable news outlets, books, and primary sources they could use. In a world where students often feel overwhelmed by information, Wikipedia, along with a good teacher, could teach them how to trace knowledge back to its roots.

Transparency as a Teaching Tool

One of Wikipedia’s greatest strengths has always been its openness. Every edit is logged. Every claim must be sourced. As a composition teacher, I was able to point this out to students. We were able to actually look at the edits. Also, our librarians would point out the dangers of taking Wikipedia at face value and look at some of the hoaxes and false information rooted out and eliminated. One of my favorite hoaxes was about my college’s hometown of Hendersonville, North Carolina, stating that the city in the Southern mountains had monkeys roaming its streets. However, such is Wikipedia’s transparency that it keeps track of hoaxes and misinformation on its own wiki!

Challenges in an AI‑Shaped World

Photo by Hartono Creative Studio on Pexels.com

Of course, openness comes with challenges. Wikipedia has spent years grappling with issues of representation, bias, and the uneven distribution of editors across cultures and languages. And now, a new challenge has arrived: generative AI.

AI tools — including the one helping me write this article— learn from vast amounts of online text. Wikipedia is one of the richest sources of human‑curated knowledge available, which means AI companies have been using, and maybe even misusing it, to train their models. As human traffic has dipped, bot traffic has surged, sometimes disguising itself to avoid detection and placing strain on Wikipedia’s infrastructure.

This raises big questions: How do we protect an open resource in a world where machines consume information faster than humans can contribute it? How do we ensure that the volunteers who built Wikipedia aren’t overshadowed by the tools that learned from them?

A New Kind of Collaboration

For its 25th birthday, Wikipedia chose a path that feels true to its spirit: collaboration. The Wikimedia Foundation announced new licensing agreements with major AI companies — Amazon, Meta, Microsoft, Perplexity, and Mistral AI among them. These agreements ensure that companies relying on Wikipedia’s data contribute to the cost of maintaining it.

For decades, Wikipedia survived on the generosity of individual donors — millions of them — who believed in free knowledge. But as AI companies increasingly depend on Wikipedia’s content, the Foundation has made it clear: if you’re going to build your models on the work of volunteers, you need to help sustain the platform that made that work possible.

What This Means for Education

For teachers, this moment feels especially important. Students today often encounter information through AI‑generated summaries rather than clicking through to original sources. When they write, pressed for time, they may be tempted to let AI do all the work, not properly contributing or even editing what the computer spits out. That means fewer opportunities to see how knowledge is constructed — and fewer chances to practice evaluating it.

We can only hope that Wikipedia’s new partnerships will help preserve the ecosystem of inquiry that educators rely on. By ensuring responsible, sustainable access to its data, the Foundation is protecting the integrity of the source material. And because Wikipedia remains free for human users, students can still dive into the articles themselves, explore the citations, and follow the breadcrumb trail of research.

A Future Rooted in Curiosity

As part of its birthday celebration, Wikimedia, the parent organization of Wikipedia, has highlighted the people behind the pages — librarians, teachers, retirees, students — all contributing to this improbable project. It’s a reminder that Wikipedia’s greatest strength isn’t its technology but its community.

In a world where information can feel slippery, Wikipedia’s commitment to openness — imperfect, collaborative, and human — feels more vital than ever, especially for the classroom.

So Happy Birthday, Wikipedia! Live long and prosper!

Where to Begin?

December 31, 2025December 31, 2025 / Katie Winkler / 1 Comment

With Mom in front of the art museum on the campus of Auburn University, our alma mater, circa 2014

My mom died. How can I begin a review of my year any other way? At 89, she held her own through winter, spring, and summer. Then, in late August, she broke her leg, and the end began. The surgery went well, and she was sent to rehab, so I felt secure enough to attend the Appalachian Writers Conference in Berea, Kentucky. I was eager to meet with the editor of my teaching memoir—the book my mother had inspired.

Draper Hall on the campus of Berea College–photo by Katie Winkler

The conference was wonderful until the last day, when I was called to the front desk. My mind leapt to my mother. She was fine—but my new car wasn’t. A storm had blown through, and branches had crashed onto it. It was still drivable, so I left early, hoping to get it repaired before our long-planned trip to the south of France.

The view from our bedroom window in Provence, photo by Katie Winkler

Despite everything, my husband, daughter, and I went ahead with the trip, meeting my brother and his family at there home in Germany for a few days before traveling on to Provence to a villa with views of Cézanne’s mountains. We swam, ate outside, hiked, and celebrated our daughter’s thirty-first birthday. But worry about Mom followed us. Midway through the trip, my brother—the primary caregiver—called to say she’d been moved from rehab back to the hospital with an upper GI bleed. For days she bounced between ICU and a regular room until the bleed was finally stopped. She returned to rehab, and things seemed to settle.

When we got home, my brother became ill; it was clear I was needed. My husband and I drove to Alabama—my car’s smashed roof and all. I spent my days at the rehab center while he went back home to arrange repairs. At the same time, I continued to edit my memoir, desperately searching for a nursing facility for Mom. She had made so little progress, and because she’d been in and out of the hospital, she still hadn’t seen her surgeon. Yet the insurance company was pressuring rehab to discharge her. I researched, wrote emails, made calls, filed appeals—leaning on every skill I’d honed as a teacher. I didn’t think I could do it. Not alone.

Meanwhile, Mom wasn’t improving. When she finally saw the surgeon, she was cleared to put weight on her leg, but back at rehab, little effort was made to help her. She was uncomfortable, bored, and deeply unhappy. I felt guilty for keeping her there through the appeals, but we had no other options.

Eventually, she came home.

I won’t describe that long week and a day in detail. It was the hardest time of my life, but I have no regrets. Caring for my mother as I once cared for my own child brought us closer than we had been in years. Thanks to my brothers, my husband, my daughter and her boyfriend, as well as two wonderful caretakers, we made it through.

Mom was lucid until the end, and we had one last extraordinary conversation. She woke, looked at me, and said, “Everyone would be better off if I was gone.” I told her how sorry I was that she had to endure so much, but that her life still had meaning—real meaning. I told her how much I had grown by going through this with her, how close I felt to her and to everyone in my life. I reminded her that she had been able to say goodbye to dear friends, that she had one more week at home, as hard as it was. I told her I was a better person because of what we had been through together.

Despite the pain, confusion, sleeplessness, and fear, we found ways to laugh, to pray, to watch our mystery shows, to savor warm cream of wheat and ice-cold Italian ice, to forgive and be forgiven, to love each other a little while longer.

But her knee pain worsened, the C-diff infection persisted, and by Saturday—when I had arranged 24/7 care so I could go home for a week—she was back in the hospital. She was stabilized, and there was no indication of immediate danger. The plan was for her to return home to the caregivers I trusted. My husband and I drove home late Saturday. Sunday I went to church. Monday morning I called her nurse. No significant changes.

Monday night, the doctor called. The nurse had gone in to check on her, found her unresponsive, tried to revive her. She was gone. It was the end of a life well-lived. The end of pain and helplessness.

As this last day of 2025 comes to a close, I find myself holding both the ache of this year and the unexpected grace woven through it. I lost my mother, yet in her final days we found a depth of love and understanding that will stay with me always. Her life shaped mine, and her last week changed me in ways I’m still discovering. As the new year begins, I don’t pretend to know what healing will look like, but I do know this: the legacy she left—her strength, her curiosity, her stubborn hope—will walk with me into whatever comes next.

And that is where I will begin again.

Upon Re-Reading Animal Farm

October 29, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

I recently re-read Animal Farm, by George Orwell and it’s just as relevant and powerful as when I first encountered it in middle school. Orwell’s tale of rebellion and betrayal stirred something in me even then. I didn’t yet know the term “satire,” but I could feel its force. I knew Orwell wasn’t just telling a story about animals—he was warning us about power, manipulation, and the fragility of truth. That moment was a leap forward in my educational growth. It was the first time I understood that stories could say one thing on the surface and something entirely different underneath.

That breakthrough didn’t happen in isolation. Just before reading Animal Farm, I had participated in the Junior Great Books® program at my middle school. I remember sitting in a circle with a few kids from different classes, discussing a boxed set of stories and folk tales from around the world. Our teacher guided us with open-ended questions, but the magic came from the conversations themselves. That program didn’t just introduce me to literature—it taught me how to think about it.

Girl in library behind a circle of books — Photo by Ying Ge on Unsplash

The Great Books Foundation was founded in 1947 by Robert Maynard Hutchins and Mortimer Adler, visionaries who believed that meaningful conversation around classic texts should be accessible to everyone—not just scholars. In 1960, the Foundation launched the Junior Great Books program that still brings that same spirit of inquiry to younger readers like it did me all those years ago.

I still remember the African folk tales that spoke to me—stories rich with wisdom, humor, and moral complexity. They opened my eyes to cultures beyond my own and taught me that stories could carry truths across time and geography. That foundation prepared me to meet Orwell’s satire with curiosity and insight. The Junior Great Books program had already primed me to ask questions, to listen to others’ interpretations, and to trust my own instincts. Reading Animal Farm so soon after that gave me the tools to recognize manipulation, to question authority, and to appreciate the power of language—not just in literature, but in life.

Today, I see Animal Farm challenged in some circles, dismissed as “pro-communist” by those who never learned to read it as satire. That misunderstanding underscores why programs like Junior Great Books matter. They don’t just teach kids to read—they teach them to think. To question. To recognize nuance. And in a world where critical thinking is more vital than ever, I’m deeply grateful for the education I had.

I still have that boxed set of Junior Great Books. It’s a little worn, but it reminds me of the moment I first learned to read between the lines—and how that skill has shaped everything I’ve done since. Animal Farm was the spark, but the Great Books program gave me the lens. And for that, I’ll always be thankful.

Curious about the legacy of Junior Great Books and the Shared Inquiry method that shaped generations of readers? Learn more about the Great Books Foundation’s mission and history here.

I’m still here!

August 9, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Me receiving an Appy Inkwell Award for Best Memoir at the Appalachian Writer's Conference, 2024 — Me receiving an Appy Inkwell Award for Best Memoir at the Appalachian Writer’s Conference, 2024

About this time last year, I found out that the opening pages of my teaching memoir, Lessons: A Teaching Life, won a contest sponsored by Martin Sisters Publishing, a small press in Barbourville, Kentucky. With the prize came eventual publication. My long year of revising, editing, and polishing began at the beginning of this year. At the end of July, I reached a milestone, finishing my personal revision and editing stage! Now, I’m working with my wonderful editor, Ryan Wineberg, to edit the book and ready it for the publisher. If all goes well, I hope to have my first book published in the first quarter of next year.

My grandfather when principal of Ridge Grove School (far right, back row)

One of the first things Ryan asked me to do was think about adding pictures, which for some reason, I had never thought about doing before. It’s been an interesting process and trip into my teaching roots, especially the pictures I have found of my own and my mother’s family, many who were educators. My grandfather, Gordon Dabbs, died before I was born, but through my mother I have learned what a great principal and physics teacher he was. My grandmother, Katherine, and her sister, Jane Leath, were also teachers as was my mother’s brother Eldridge Dabbs. My father was a principal, teacher, and coach. My mother taught English but spent the bulk of her career as a high school librarian, now retired for many years. My mother’s first cousin Judson Jones became a principal, too, and two of his daughters, Leah and Lori work in education; Lori has her doctorate like her daddy.

My grandmother with her first class at Lanett High School, Lanett, Alabama (front row, far right)

Great Aunt Jane at her retirement celebration (front row, far left)

It’s been great to look back and see pictures that represent this rich legacy that helped shape the value I put on education. For me and my family, it’s been priceless!

I will sure keep you all updated about the book’s progress. In the meantime, I’ll be traveling to the Appalachian Writers’ Conference again in September. Excited to go back and keep learning–as my dad always said, “I’m not going to retire. I’m going to refire!”

What’s Mrs. Winkler up to?

June 27, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

I’m not sure anyone cares, but here goes:

Actors from the original production of A Carolina Story on stage during a rehearsal — Rehearsal of the original A Carolina Story at Blue Ridge Community College, 2012–photo by Katie Winkler

I had the reading of the re-write of my play, A Carolina Story, that I worked on for a year during my time as a Dramatists Guild Foundation National Virtual Fellow. It was only a workshop reading at a local community theater, and it went well, but it felt a bit anti-climatic. I think I made it loom large in my mind and tried to make it a bigger “production” than it should have been, so I was bound to be a little disappointed, especially when I ended up with less time than I expected and had to cut out parts of the reading.
On the other hand, the actors who read for me were fantastic! Many of them were my dear friends and some of them had either directed or acted in the original version. They read so well, giving me the feedback and inspiration I needed. I don’t know what will happen with the play next, but the major revision is finished, it’s better, and the year of learning and revising and planning was not wasted.
I’m learning to get over myself. I have made many mistakes and will continue to make more, but I’m better for it. Each misstep is another opportunity to grow. I’m proud that I have not let my stupidity stop myself from trying and taking chances. One of the great things about being my age is that I’ve gotten close to not giving a rat’s patootie what people think about me.
I continue to make progress on my teaching memoir thanks to Ryan, the great editor Martin Sisters Publishing assigned me, although I do give my own hard work its due as well. I was stuck for a little while, I have to admit, struggling with structure and focus. I just couldn’t quite wrap my head around how to put the book together or where to put the emphasis, but suggestions from Ryan helped as. It looks like I will finish with my first big edit ahead of the deadline.
What else am I up to? Trying to live well–planning and going on trips, writing, reading, listening to audio books, spending time with my husband and daughter, laughing with people, trying to help them, trying to stay informed about current events without obsessing, trying to take care of my health, finding ways to stay calm and enjoy the time I have left on the planet.
And I remember. Working on a memoir means living with the past, including all of those mistakes I just talked about, and while some of it has been painful, much of it has been glorious. It’s been a good life and despite the hardships and disappointments of my teaching career, I never wanted to do anything else except write, and I have been able to do both for most of my life. That’s something, isn’t it? And I’m grateful.

Getting Real, Folks

March 29, 2025March 29, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

A few years ago, when I was still working at a small community college in western North Carolina, I was visiting my mother who lives in rural Alabama. Often times towards the end of my almost 40-year teaching career, I would be discouraged and, I’m sad to say, spent a great deal of time bellyaching about the work environment when I was talking with my mother. But this time, I was happily explaining how a new teaching idea (I can’t remember what it was) had positively affected my students. “Sometimes this teaching stuff works,” I said.

My mom and me about ten years ago–photo by Hannah Winkler

Then, after a moment of silence, my mother said, “I know you’re too busy right now, but when you retire, you really ought to write a book about teaching. You’re such a good teacher, Katie.” I teared up then just like I am right now because those words coming from my mother started healing the wounds from a dysfunctional workplace and dwindling societal respect for educators in general. Slowly, the first writing project of my retirement began to take shape in my mind. I would write a memoir of my life as a teacher, and it would be dedicated to my mother.

I actually began writing the book in the last year of teaching but didn’t get very far. The composing process has never come easily to me, and I struggled. However, once I retired and was freed from the stresses of teaching, especially the heavy grading load, the words just seemed to tumble out of me. I had forgotten why I went into teaching in the first place, but now, no longer fixating on the heavy course loads, bureaucratic frustrations, and student apathy, I began remembering the joy of being in the classroom, the challenges I overcame, and the educational adventures I experienced. I had a rough, rough draft in six months, half the time I had given myself to finish.

Even though I only had a draft of the book, when I saw the opportunity to enter a contest for a full-length memoir that only required the first 2,500 words, I decided to enter since all of the top three awards would cover the fee to the conference that was sponsoring the contest. I thought I had a shot at 3rd place, but never imagined that I would win the memoir category that came with an additional prize of publication!

So, it is happening! The publisher has assigned my book an editor who happens to be just right for me, someone with community college teaching experience who was the first person to greet me at the conference with the words, “I love your work!”

Unlike composing, editing is a joy for me. I would tell my students this; they would just give me that you’re-such-a-nerd look, but I would protest. “No, no, no! You don’t understand. Revision and editing are at the heart of good writing. That’s when you get to manipulate the words, sentences, and paragraphs–add and subtract until you make the writing sing!”

I doubted that many believed me, so I started saving my students’ diagnostic paragraphs in a folder and handing them back on exam day when they wrote a final reflection paper comparing that first faltering writing to the final essay. Sometimes they would audibly express their surprise with a “It is better.” or even just “Wow!”

I cherished those days just as much as I cherish revising and editing my first book: Lessons: A Teaching Life–coming to a bookstore near you, or online, from Martin Sisters Publishing.

***

The cover of the Fall/Winter edition of Teach. Write. A statue of an angel with arm outstretched

Coming soon! The next edition of Teach. Write. I’m dedicating this edition to the indomitable spirit of those who have been impacted by the many natural disasters we’ve been experiencing around the world, especially those here in my region of Western North Carolina. Six months ago, Hurricane Helene tore through our area, causing massive damage and a loss of 106 lives. Now, due to the thousands of downed trees and dry weather, fires are blazing all over our region, including upstate South Carolina. And yet, the resilient spirit of our people stands.

The Spring/Summer 2025 edition of Teach. Write. will be up on my sister site on April 1. On that date, I will begin accepting submissions for the 2025 Fall/Winter edition, so take a look at my guidelines and send me your best work!

Service is a dirty word

February 23, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Service is a dirty word
You may have to
Wipe inky hands
On a blackened rag
Beside a bottle
Of disinfectant
Left over
From Covid’s mandatory cleaning days
Long deemed
Useless by scientists
But not bureaucrats.

Service is a dirty word.
You may have to
Wipe down your desk
Of ceiling tile flecks
From above you
As workers pound on the old roof
Of a building
That appears new
To the press and politicians
who don’t see you
Back there, serving

Photo by Cori Emmalea Rodriguez on Pexels.com

Service is a dirty word.
You chose this filthy bed you lie in
You could have walked away.
You could have stayed so much cleaner if
You chose business or tech.
You really deserve that net decrease in pay.
For wanting, longing to serve.

Don’t you know?

Service is a dirty word.

Reading at The Brandy Bar

January 10, 2025 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

The Brandy Bar + Cocktails — Photo by usarestaurants.info

It’s getting real, y’all. This month I will begin the formal editing process of my teaching memoir, Lessons: A Teaching Life. If all goes well, the book will be published by the end of the year. I’ve been told it’s never too early to get the word out, so I signed up to read a short excerpt from the book at The Brandy Bar+Cocktails.

For the past several years, almost every month, the North Carolina Writers’ Network–Henderson County sponsors “In the Company of Writers” at The Brandy Bar. It’s great. The Brandy Bar is in an old building on historic 7th Avenue in Hendersonville, NC. Writers gather to hear a presentation by a local or regional poet, author, or playwright, followed by an open mic.

Last Wednesday, the evening began with signing up for the open mic and chatting with writer friends to the sound of blues tunes by guitarist Charlie Wilkinson and Hollywood Jonny. Next, came a marvelous presentation by local poet Tony Robles who read from his two volumes of poetry–Where the Warehouse Things Are and Thrift Store Metamorphosis. Tony moved us all as he read poems about the soul-healing power of physical work and the intrinsic value of everyday life and ordinary people. After the reading, Tony answered questions, offering insight into his work and telling us about the novel he’s working on, his first.

The Reading Room — Photo by usarestaurants.info

I was the first to read after Tony. A little nervous to follow such a great writer and eloquent speaker, but I felt so good afterward. One of the best things about reading a work in progress to an audience is when you get affirmation that your work has value. In my case, I also picked up on a few things I needed to revise, which I was hoping for. I used to tell my students to read their work aloud when they were revising and editing. One of the best ways to check for technical errors, sure, but also an opportunity to analyze word choice, sentence structure, and rhythm.

It was also a joy to hear the other readers. Some were writers I’ve come to know very well over my years of involvement with the Network, but I was happy to hear the fine work of writers I’d never met, including quite a few younger writers. In the company of writers is a good name for the event, one of my favorite places to be. Extra nice to be sitting in a comfortable chair sipping on a specialty of the house, Brandy Alexander.

Lava lamp collection by the bar–photo by usarestaurants.info

One of the most moving pieces came from a bearded man wearing a cap, tattoos covering his arms. He wrote about addiction and dealing with it. After the readings, he approached me and asked if I had ever taught at the University of North Carolina–Asheville. I said I had not, but I had taught at Blue Ridge Community College for 27 years.

His face brightened. He had been there, too. He asked about his teacher, my colleague who retired several years before me. I told him that I met with her regularly, that she was doing well and enjoying retirement. He wanted me to let her know that he was at UNCA finally finishing his degree, in English. “Tell her I’m a little late in getting it but I’m getting it.” I assured him I would let her know.

Once long ago, a student gave me a little wooden plaque shaped like a pencil that said, “Time and distance cannot erase the influence of a good teacher.” I think I’ll remind my friend of that when I tell her about meeting her grateful student while reading at The Brandy Bar.

The Year Closes

December 30, 2024 / Katie Winkler / 2 Comments

The year closes.

It’s been good.

I know.

It’s been bad, too.

It’s tested me like never before

But

It hasn’t.

And yet.

The year closes.

I’m not a teacher anymore.

But that’s okay.

I’m still Mrs. Winkler

I still have something to say.

But right now,

Right now.

I just want to play with my cat

Sit next to my husband and daughter

On the couch

Or read.

While

The year closes

Wait ’til tomorrow.

Or the day after.

I’m not done with you yet.

Thanksgiving 2024

November 28, 2024 / Katie Winkler / Leave a comment

Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

Once again, I sit down to write on Thanksgiving Day. What a blessed life I have! I get to write just about whenever I want to! I know I’ve often used this blog to complain about the state of higher education in the American South and elsewhere, but I’m grateful that I CAN and have always been able to voice my dissent or approval despite my occasional confrontational style and unconventional teaching methods. For most of my career, in fact, I have been free to pursue whatever I thought best for my students, free to encourage, admonish, and challenge them.

Now that I’m retired, I’m grateful for the modern technology that allows me to easily maintain this blog and publish my literary journal Teach. Write. These publications allow me to continue having a voice about education in my country. This upcoming year, however, although I will still acknowledge my concerns, I am going to make a point to seek out more of the good that I come across, the innovative and exciting initiatives that I hear about, the positive use of new technologies, how instructors are not only coping with the times but also finding ways to bring their students back to the place where they are less anxious about their education and excited about learning. I want to find the students who are enjoying their education and discover why. I also want to highlight the activities of educational organizations I’m a part of, including the American Association of University Professors, the Phi Kappa Phi teaching honor society, and the Educational Foundation of Henderson County Public Schools.

Another focus of this new year is continuing to look back and mine the educational gems of my own past as I edit my teaching memoir, Lessons: A Teaching Life. I have been thinking a great deal about my own education as well as my career as an instructor during this time of revision. I have so many things I want to write about, but not all of my stories belong in the book, not this one anyway. The blog will be a good place for my memories, ones that will, I hope, instruct and encourage teachers, students, and parents.

I have so much to be thankful for during this my second year of retirement–family, friends, neighbors, health, security, prosperity. Sure, there are still difficult times like hurricanes and elections, still things to complain about and to work to improve, but all that can wait for another day, can’t it?

Today, let’s just raise a glass and say, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

Hey, Mrs. Winkler!

Musings and Mutterings About Higher Education in the South

Musings