Jenny Page 
Gunnar Olafsson Bernie Falls in Line
Like I had a choice. (See previous.)
Yachts, Yahtzee & Bored Games
Board games, or bored games?” That is the question I had posed to Miller, the stalwart concierge, when I went down to fetch Mother’s dry cleaning. I couldn’t hazard a…
The Begging Tour, Part 4: Small Towns, Small Minds, Big Questions
We’re coming up on Sheriff Paul’s home, Brantley behind the wheel and me in the backseat with Bernie, who seems particularly reticent today. Journalists are supposed to remove all emotion…
Marjorie Makes an Endorsement
Like a bee to honey, dear readers, your Miss Comportment is a-buzz about politics … but NOT of the Middle Valley variety. (More on Bernie and Mayor Charlotte’s moronic attempts…
Bernie’s Shrinking Fishbowl
I’d met the Paul’s ex on two occasions, neither of which made me at all excited about there being a third. But Mayor Charlotte insisted. “We have to pay our…
Wanda Gets Herself Stu-ed Up
Four voice messages. No return calls. And I thought Mayor Charlotte and I had made a connection. I simply want to understand why I, the head of the tourism bureau…
The Begging Tour, Part 3: Ambush in the Sitting Room
The Hughes’ cat may have run off into the night, but its essence was everywhere in the family’s sitting room. Though its style was Victorian to the hilt – satin…
“Father’s gone.”
My mother was inconsolable. The cat had escaped into the rainy night 12 hours earlier and, when he hadn’t returned by daybreak, she, of course, called me. “You’re the one…
The Begging Tour, Part 2: The Interrogation Factor
I don’t believe in horoscopes. Never have, never will. I always picture these syndicated columnists, so-called “seers,” in their basements smoking Newports, sipping highballs and stringing together storylines toward which…