Are certain albums better suited for certain seasons?

Last week, I was (as is often the case) in the mood to listen to some Wilco, but not just any Wilco because it had to be just the right Wilco. The wrong album at the wrong time can be a disaster, particularly on those days where the songs need to complement the mood rather than set it; I needed music as an enhancer, not an enforcer.
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10 years later: How a community newspaper covered Sept. 11

Our publisher walked into the newsroom, telling us we should monitor the morning TV broadcasts, not that anything was major, but just in case.

A plane had hit the World Trade Center, which while definitely unusual, was nothing we’d normally cover in Georgetown, Ky., where we focused our reporting efforts on news inside Scott County’s borders.

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This one’s for Big Ted

You know a man is a good man when you can clearly remember the last conversation you had with him.

You know a man is a better man when that last conversation took place several years ago and involved nothing more than a routine phone call asking for a vote in an upcoming election.

I don’t recall the year, probably sometime in the mid-to-late-1990s, but that was the last time I spoke with Ted Lacy, who called my parents’ house seeking their support in the jailer’s race in Powell County. Ted knew the entire household would be casting their votes for him, but he made the call anyhow to thank my parents and because that’s just what a man does.

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No, really Hammer, we’re on our hands and knees asking you to to stop inflicting harm

Eighteen years ago, I entered the world of music.

On Christmas morning in 1990, I received my first stereo and CD player, which at that time was a gigantic beast of machinery. Compact discs were cutting edge, with a sound that blew the doors off cassette tapes (not so much albums, though, but those can’t be easily played in a car).
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