In hindsight, I view it as our family's Gold Standard for Thanksgivings.
My pastor preached a sermon recently in which he said it was OK for boys to cry.
I was a student when the Newport-Mesa Unified School District unveiled what was considered at the time the grandest advance in classroom...
Relatives on my mother's side of the family tend to be as restive as a double shot of espresso.
Though I hadn't thought about it in decades, I remember it as if it were yesterday. It's a moment frozen in time.
The Dodgers had hoped to make a deep run into postseason play this year.
It was a glorious early September morning.
My name is Jim. I'm a mall grandparent.
I don't give a moldy fig for celebrities.
Newport Beach, Orange Coast College, Canada, Vancouver Island, Victoria, the Canadian Rockies, Calgary, Montréal, Quebec, New...
Parkinson's disease slows a person down.
"No pain, no gain" was my basic-training drill sergeant's favorite expression during arduous Army workouts.
Are you bilingual?
Does anyone remember a brash young sportswriter by the name of John Sevano, who ruled these pages in the late 1970s?
I figure rather prominently on my wife, Hedy's, list of life's absolute essentials.
I'm pretty sure she was the first person with Parkinson's disease I ever met.
The scenery was stunning, but he hardly noticed. His mug was stuck in a pulp novel.
Four impressive young men slipped into the row in front of my wife and me at church a couple of weeks ago.
I came to The Beautiful Game — futbol — rather late in life.
She hadn't crossed my mind in decades: the Mad Woman of Costa Mesa.
I walked 20 paces into the sea, turned around and looked back at the beach, Omaha Beach.
Except for time spent in the military, I've lived all 69 of my years in Orange County.
Irish musician Shay Healy is candid when it comes to discussing the illness that has robbed him of his golden years.
No good deed goes unpunished.
We humans measure our threescore and 10 in disparate ways.
It was spring break last week at the Carnett household in Costa Mesa.
Five years ago this week I became a weekly columnist for the Daily Pilot.
April is national Parkinson's Awareness Month.
My 14-year-old grandson, Ethan, called last weekend from his home in North Carolina.
Did I have a premonition that our lives would somehow intersect?
I'm a longtime fan of American musical theater.
Daily Pilot columnist Patrice Apodaca recently wrote a fascinating column on memory.
Fifty years ago this month I joined Uncle Sam's Army.
"Jimmy, don't swing on that gate!"
It was one of the most meaningful experiences of my youth.
It was the first football game with the words "Super Bowl" emblazoned on the cover of its printed program.
It's my birthday this week, and I intend to ignore it.
I took my first — and I'm pretty sure last — "selfie" in the summer of 1964.
Newport-Mesa has lost a bellwether and an icon.
I don't suppose one can expect Stars and Stripes forever.
Christmas is about the babe in the manger.
I sat with my 7-year-old granddaughter, Eva, the other day as she wrote her 2013 Christmas letter to Santa.
Will student housing be introduced at Orange Coast College in the not-too-distant future?
I have an Irish friend who considers Thanksgiving to be the best of America's holidays.
It was one of the most shocking and appalling historical events of my lifetime.
I've noticed lately that my 8-month-old grandson has been acquiring a lode of new physical skills.
"I can't tell you Aussies and Kiwis apart," I once confessed to a New Zealander.
Most of the characters he portrayed died screaming.