I use this slide in my presentations on FOIA. On one side of it is a snarling, ferocious, uniformed man pinning the head of another man against a wall. On the other side is the (original) Gladys Kravitz, the nosy next-door neighbor of Samantha and Darrin (both Darrins) Stephenson on Bewitched.
I just got back from picking up a take-out order at one of my favorite local eateries. The hostess directed me to the bar to pick it up, so I staked out a spot along the row of 10 or so chairs, only two of which were occupied. And I waited. And I waited. Eight to 10 employees swirled around the bar area but none came into it and still I waited.
Reprinted with permission from The Smithfield Times, Aug. 10, 2021
By the time I came to know Frosty Landon in 1989 or thereabouts, he was already a legend in Virginia journalism.
He had worked his way up the ladder at the Roanoke Times as an editorial writer and editor, had been booted down the steps again for editorially criticizing Virginia’s Massive Resistance to integration, and had then worked his way back up to become executive editor of that stalwart daily paper.
I don’t even know where to start. Literally. I am typing this sentence not knowing where it will lead me, where I will end up, what I will say or what point I want to make.
There is just too much swirling around my head in the days since my former boss — my friend and my mentor — Frosty Landon died July 19 at the age of 87.
