Wednesday, October 01 2014


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Personal Voice

Who Is A Real Hero By Daris Howard

I heard that a young teenage boy had gotten in trouble at school the other day, and his name hit home to me. This was not his first offense, for he has been in trouble off and on for a few years. Stephen was one of my cub scouts.

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Most Current Articles in Personal Voice

Always the Best Cheerleader

All cheerleaders don't have pom poms.

By Daris Howard
Chocolate on my Mind

Sometimes I think I may as well just put “Eat some chocolate” at the top of my daily to-do list and then I’d be sure to get at least one thing done that day!

By Janice Kapp Perry
Not on the Same Page: From Student to Teacher

Most students are bright and fun to teach, but each semester I get interesting letters, emails, and phone calls from a few students who may not fall into those categories.

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Getting Up Each Time We Fall

I watched as my son and Timmy tried, but stumbled and fell time and time again. And when they tried to bat, the ball was long past before they swung.

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A Little Boy Who Needed Softball

I set up a practice schedule, and at our first practice I notice a small boy sitting across the field watching us. He was there at the next practice, too. When I went to visit with him, he scampered away.

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This Ain’t Your Grandma’s Pound Cake

Will there be consequences to pay in the life after this one for changing the family pound cake recipe? A granddaughter can only hope not.

By Susan Elzey
Army Intelligence

Most of the performances for his band were as the background music at parties for the army brass. The band would play quietly while people visited, ate dinner, or whatever. But one day his commanding officer came to him.

By Daris Howard
Where Everyone Knows You

As my wife, Donna, and I were dating and were trying to learn more about each other, our differences quickly became apparent. She grew up in Los Angeles, and I grew up in the middle of nowhere.

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What Honor Really Means

Every summer, many of the small communities form youth softball teams for a tournament. But the year I was 14, there was an abundance of young men in my rural community. The older boys decided that they didn’t want us younger boys playing with them.

By Daris Howard