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Of course you are. You’re a Like the Dew reader.
Let’s be honest with each other. We have a sharp group of folks in the Like the Dew community, and we’d like to offer a new way for you to contribute to the Web site and share your knowledge and talents with your fellow readers.
This week we’re introducing a “Mini Dew Reviews” department. We invite each of you to participate and become a Like the Dew reviewer and tell other readers about the best restaurants in your town or other cities you visit, the best artists and exhibits, the movies you’ve enjoyed (or not), the great TV shows you’ve watched, the plays in local theaters, the concerts you’ve seen. We’d even like to hear about the bars and taverns with ambience you’ve visited. (Yes, even in the South, we do have some ambience.)
Like the Dew readers are spread out around the region, and we hope to gain a richer appreciation of the opportunities out there in South-land. Your views can help guide your fellow readers toward new opportunities.
Feel free to review any aspect of arts and culture. Tell us about upcoming festivals or exhibits we might want to visit. You can even tell us about political rallies or community or club meetings that might interest some readers.
Mini reviews can be a sentence or two or longer if you have a lot to say.
All you need to do is write your review in the box that appears on the lower right corner of the home page and click “submit.”
It’s quick. It’s easy. You’ll be providing a great service for others.
And after you’ve written, be sure to update your resume to let folks know you’re a Like the Dew restaurant critic or movie reviewer or rock music writer or cultural correspondent. Congratulations. You’re hired.
NOTE: You can also reach Mini Dew Reviews through this link: http://likethedew.com/#minidewreview
Worthy of Comment
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The outcome of Christie's recent auction of General Robert E. Lee's precious navel lint left even the most jaded “Lost Cause” memorabilia mavens gobsmacked and whistling Dixie. Not to mention afflicting many frustrated, heart-broken losing bidders with a temporary paralysis that baffled emergency physicians compared to the old-timey Southern Belle "vapors." This dream-crushing auction loss brutalized their very star and barred souls. The awestruck winner of General Lee’s coveted navel detritus, said that he did not consider himself to be the “owner” of the singular holy Rebel artifact; only its humble and devoted caretaker until the treasure is passed on to the next wors Read on →
At the beginning of 1997 I bought a new car. It was modest in price and style, but automatic and practical for a woman living in London. It was easy to park, small enough to fit in the narrowest spaces and comfortable to drive: a navy blue Daihatsu Charade that would not attract thieves or envy. I got it at a bargain price because one of my sons worked for a dealership. It was zippy in traffic, when traffic allowed. British roads are narrower and more congested than American ones, this small island being packed with a population of 63 million. Read on →
Back during WWII, there was a manpower shortage in the east Alabama cotton mills, and my Grandfather, Jim Strickland, sold his backwoods Randolph County farm, and moved to the Chattahoochee Valley still seeking his fortune. Even at his advanced age, and with failing health, he easily found a job as an armed guard, watching the truck gate at Fairfax Mill. Whether the nation’s Intelligence Services had uncovered an Axis plot to destroy Alabama cotton mills, I couldn’t say. But Papa Strickland spent WWII making sure NAZI saboteurs or Kamikaze pilots didn’t sneak into Fairfax Mill through the truck gate. Suffice it to say, Read on →
In case you’re emerging from a coma over the last couple of months and somehow missed the change, it’s the tourist season again. The signs are everywhere – but, alas, mostly here at the beach. Gone are the days, for a while at least, when I could walk on the beach with my dog ’Dro (short for Pedro) and meet up with no one but myself. Good place for doing that. The late, great Southern humorist Lewis Grizzard wrote memorably that on a back road in Georgia at night, you could ask yourself a question and get an honest answer. In South Carolina, a beach w Read on →