I first saw her at my grandmother's funeral. Tall, plain, dressed in black, she stood by herself at the rear of the cemetery throng.

Pass the ether. Someone needs to put this Virginia misstep to sleep. I'm talking about "Hampton Roads." That phony moniker that was foisted on this balmy and beautiful corner of Virginia nearly 30 years ago. Heck, it's the name of the newspaper section that you're reading right now.

Headlines. Snappy ones catch your eye, make you want to read on and dazzle you with wit. Imprecise headlines, well, they can be cringe inducing. I was a giant slice of cringe Friday morning when I spied the headline atop the column I'd written about the Virginia Beach firefighters and police officers who voted to oppose the November light-rail referendum.

Looks like Virginia Beach's disciples of development didn't see this coming: city workers voicing their opposition to the upcoming light-rail referendum.

What took so long? That was my reaction when I heard the Norfolk public schools were getting ready to haul parents into court if they refuse to cooperate in correcting their kids' incorrigible behavior. This judicial tool carries the possibility of a $500 civil fine and has been available to all school divisions since it became law in Virginia in 2004.

I wish I had an amusing story to share with you for Mother's Day. But my eccentric mom's been dead almost 14 years, and I have to concentrate really hard to even remember her voice. Sad, isn't it?

We're entering the season of weddings, so here's some advice for all the bridegrooms: If your intended is spending the last weeks before the Big Day taking nourishment through a feeding tube so she can fit into a size 2 gown, run.

Chances are the folks who most need to read this column won’t. But I’m going to write it anyway because this has to be said: Parents, keep your darned teenagers off the street at night. This is for all the mothers and fathers who let their offspring come and go as if their house had no door. 

Ever notice how some everyday events fill you with dread? A Jehovah's Witness at the front door, for instance. A visit to the gastroenterologist when you turn 50. Or a trip requiring a rental car, where your dreams of a new ride and low rates are dashed by an agent pressuring you to buy insurance and other amenities, even though you don't need them.

Pilot reporters Dave Forster and Marjon Rostami were pummeled by a pack of punks last month in Norfolk. It was two weeks before any mention of that vicious attack appeared in the paper. As a result, The Virginian-Pilot is now taking a beating.