"They's just good medicine in dirt," my patient told me.
In old gangster movies, sleeping with the fishes is never a good thing.
I never had a papaw when I was growing up.
Having a new baby at home has been an adjustment for me, my wife and our 6-year-old son.
I broke the news to her and she nearly began to cry.
Many of you know that for a season in my life I wanted nothing more than to be a radio personality.
I’ve always been a carnivore.
Beef, chicken and pork — they’re all on the menu. I’m an equal-opportunity consumer.
I have certain convictions about which I am inflexible.
What a crazy week.
Humorist Erma Bombeck said, “All of us have times in our lives that test our courage. Taking children into a house with white carpet is one of them.” Dealing with the best of times and the worst of times is another.
This Father’s Day, my mind is drifting to memories of my grandfathers.
Last Monday started like any Monday for me: Several cups of coffee, the weekly Good News section deadline and sorting out the newsroom payroll.
My name is Brandon A. Lane, and I have a confession, I’m a horror movie addict. So much so that I parlayed the love of watching them into a career of living a horror movie all year long.
It is a unifying, aggravating, irritating, dreaded and sometimes nearly disrobing moment for patients: the weigh-in for an office visit.
Sitting, huddled in my living room with only one small lamp fighting back the gloom of night, I glaced at my watch: 2 a.m.
It was the then I realized I had a problem — not with the bottle or a hard-to-kick prescription pill, but something much less sinister: Ancestry.com.
“You had me at hello.”
Thursday evening my family and I were enjoying a beautiful evening at the Sevierville City Park, when something caught my eye.
“I’ve never done this before,” I said to my patient sitting in my office.
I’ve always been a bookworm.
Once in a while a person is fortunate enough to bear witness to a special moment.
I've lived in the South all of my life.
The National Anthem was a troubling song when I was growing up.
Little boys learn which sport to love from their fathers. For some, it’s baseball, others football or basketball - even hockey. Although Pop liked all sports, he loved boxing.