IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury The Geico insurance people had the chance to keep camels in front of folks, but lost 15 percent of their credibility when they chose a gecko instead of a camel for their mascot several years ago. I thought their ad showing Caleb the Camel clopping through the office to ask workers if they could guess

IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury Purple is a color I am generally neutral about, but it has taken decades for me to elevate it from negative status.   I’m guessing it barely made the grade for inclusion in those tiny boxes of crayons used down to the very last smidge by Early School first-graders in 1944. Somebody claimed that it started

 IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury Uncle Mort, age 108, said he was ‘locked and loaded’ to give me an earful when he called recently. Reflecting on our lengthy conversation later, I decided he had unloaded at least two “earfuls,” rapidity at 250 words per minute, with gusts to 300. He had Olympic Games on his mind, but managed to include

IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury I have never read columns as entertaining as those penned by the late Erma Bombeck, who survived cancer surgery, only to be claimed by kidney disease at age 69. Her battle was valiant as she underwent five years of dialysis before ultimately failing to survive transplant surgery that came too late. (Never mind she

IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury Recent conversations–OK, maybe just banter–have me thinking heavily about grandmothers. Those who’ve had the nurturing of two are doubly blessed. (I knew just one, since the flu epidemic in the 1920s took one away several years prior to my birth.) They constitute a special group, these grandmothers who answer to many names, some of which

   IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury The subject of footwear has hit me dead center in recent days. Following are details of unlikely happenings last week. Remembrances are hand-on-the-Bible truths to which I am sticking. Said topic involves a frustrated kindergarten teacher, the boots-were-made-for-walking tune and a mystery involving one of my shoes. As suggested in Julie Andrews’ Do-Rey-Mi song that set

IDLE AMERICANCommentary by Dr. Don Newbury Uncle Mort’s “throwaway” lines grow mountainous in trash heaps on his place back in the thicket. Some heard, though, are “keepers,” worthy of repeated consideration. When still in his 90s, he warned about paying the least bit of attention to kitchen recipes that have unrecognizable or multi-syllabic words, exotic wines or ingredients to be “folded