Mary Lou Boggs-Jones, my paternal grandmother, was the kindest, most loving woman I have ever known. My fondest memories, as a child, were spent on my grandparents’ small farm in their intimate 950-square foot home just north of Columbia, Missouri. With my beagle-mix, Snoopy, and my very special barnyard pal, Henny Penny, the chicken, we spent many a wonderful

As a youngster, I used to put myself to sleep by lying face down and relentlessly thumping my head up and down directly into my pillow until I exhausted myself enough to deactivate my brain and fall asleep. I recently shared the head-thumping history with my partner Derek who, without missing a beat, replied, “Well

In the summer of 1972, Mid-Missouri went Hollywood. A movie musical version of Mark Twain’s classic, Tom Sawyer, was set to be filmed in Arrow Rock, Missouri—just a hop, skip and a jump from my hometown of Columbia. I begged, pleaded and subsequently hyperventilated until my parents agreed to take me to the open call for movie

Growing up, especially in small-town America, many of us couldn't really fathom the concept of “fame.” We all thought we wanted fame, but we didn't really know what it meant. And we certainly didn't have many opportunities to cross paths with a member of the rich and famous. Of course, the irony is that I would eventually

I recently found a foolproof way to get out of Jury Duty: be myself. Our story begins with my receipt of a personal invitation to attend the coveted jury selection process at the exquisite Collier County Courthouse in Naples, Florida. How could I refuse such a lovely offer? Ironically, this was my first dip into the jury pool and,

We Joneses are borderline stalkers yet have managed to avoid the long arm of the law--so far. Take Sara Evans—a simple “related-by-marriage” designation has resulted in years of possibly unwanted backstage “family reunions” involving all three of us Jones kids. My two sisters also managed to exploit my one-year college association with Sheryl Crow resulting

Sometimes in management one has to make an unpopular decision and stick to it regardless of the consequences. In my case, my management career began rather inauspiciously when I was eleven years old. From the mid-fifties to the early sixties, my dad waited patiently through the birth of two girls to finally get his very

Waiting for Godot is an absurdist play by Samuel Beckett in which two characters wait endlessly for the arrival of some guy named Godot who never shows. I have never seen this play as I’m fearful I may have to wait for the plot to start too. However, I can relate to the mania associated

Marcus Welby, MD, starring Robert Young, premiered on television on September 23, 1969 and quickly gained my rapt attention. So, at 7 years old, I immediately knew I just had to be a doctor like Dr. Welby on TV or Dr. Garrett, my chain-smoking ear, nose and throat doctor in Columbia, Missouri. Though much less was known about

In the 60s and 70s, things were great in Kenjonesland as long as nothing ever got too serious. My dad was all about a laugh, a smile, the Kansas City Royals and, most importantly, knowing when to take cover in his bedroom in front of the TV. My mom, the parental barracuda of our household, pretty much