What do the city of Lubbock, a defunct restaurant, and a submerged neighborhood have in common? They’re all places in somebody’s heart.
Why would anybody take a charming place like Highland Park, tear down the nice old homes, build new fortresses, gradually drain the neighborly spirit, and call that progress? Don’t ask me. I don’t get it either.
October 1, 2011 | by Prudence Mackintosh | Letter From Highland Park
He was a world-renowned piano prodigy whose romanticism and technical virtuosity inspired thousands and famously helped thaw the Cold War. But as a visit to his hometown of Kilgore made clear to me, Van Cliburn was also a Texan, a Southerner, a Baptist, a patriot, and a man who loved black-eyed peas as much as I do.
February 28, 2013 | by Prudence Mackintosh | RIP