Cindy Hval

First, let me be perfectly clear. I do not hate John Lennon. Just because I opined that “Happy Xmas (War is Over)” is one of the worst Christmas songs ever, does not make me a Lennon-hater – or worse a Beatles-basher. I also loathe “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas,” but no one has accused me of being a hippo-hater. Yet.

Riverday School may be small, but the independent nonprofit hopes to make a big difference in the environment. With 20 students enrolled in grades K-6, three full-time teachers and one part-time art instructor, the school has already been involved in several projects aimed at teaching children the value of environmental sustainability.

They spill from the bin in a colorful array, 400 of them in all. Shiny heart stickers on pink envelopes tumble among airmail envelopes bordered in red, white and blue. The letters tell the story of Tony and Debbi Dyson’s courtship – a courtship that spanned the miles between Haverhill, England, and Hermiston, Ore.

Long before podcasts, live-streaming video and even before television, families used to gather around the radio and listen to radio theater. Shows like “Amos and Andy” and “Flash Gordon” provided hours of entertainment. Radio relies on a magical collaboration between the imagination of the listener and the vocal performances of actors, to make performances come alive.

Clenching the steering wheel, I muttered while the tractor in front of me slowly puttered. A quick glance at the clock on my dash confirmed my fear – I was going to be late for my relaxing getaway at the Coeur d’Alene Casino Resort. The muscles in my neck tightened, my jaw clenched – the masseuse would have her work cut out for her.

You might not think prison is a good environment for growing things, but Amanda Parrish from The Lands Council is quick to point out the advantages. On Nov. 14, she and conservation program director Kat Hall brought 200 hundred Ponderosa pines to Geiger Corrections Center. A crew of inmates got busy planting the saplings in pots.

Coeur d’Alene got a little taste of Hollywood on Nov. 13 during the red carpet world premiere of “Without a Ladder.” Tuxedo-clad gentlemen and ladies in their finest evening wear milled around the red carpet at Regal Cinemas Riverstone until the sound of drums alerted them that the film’s stars were on the way.

A psychiatrist was killed with a garden gnome at the Sphinx and no one said a word. That’s because the “crime” occurred at Whitworth University during the Nov. 6 rehearsal of Cool Whip – a student-led improv group.

Tears came easily to him. Mostly tears of joy and gratitude. He was often beaming while his eyes filled. Some folks wear their hearts on their sleeves, but Charlie Parsons’ heart was reflected in his eyes. On Oct. 25, Charlie, 88, died unexpectedly. Spokane lost a renowned horticulturist and florist, teacher, civic leader and an incredibly gentle man.

John Lynch didn’t let a diagnosis of juvenile rheumatoid arthritis prevent him from having a rewarding legal career. Nor has the disease prevented him from being an active and involved father to his two children. But he’s felt the pain of arthritis in myriad ways.

Sweat and saliva streaked down my face. The plastic mask stuck to sticky places as I tried to take shallow breaths through the tiny nostril holes. Death via suffocation seemed imminent, but I didn’t care. I’d achieved my heart’s desire – a store-bought Halloween costume. No makeshift hobo costume cribbed from my brothers’ clothing for me. This was it. The real deal. A shimmery satin dress and a Cinderella mask, complete with crown. I may have won the costume war, but I lost the battle of the boots.

When a Lewis and Clark Tiger danced with a Rogers Pirate, sparks flew. Or at least that’s what George Creighton thought.

As his wife’s 40th birthday approached, Rob Brewer knew he wanted to do something memorable for Lorna. He planned a surprise party complete with purple streamers and paper plates. He ordered a cake and swore their friends to secrecy.

As his wife’s 40th birthday approached, Rob Brewer knew he wanted to do something memorable for Lorna. He planned a surprise party complete with purple streamers and paper plates. He ordered a cake and swore their friends to secrecy.

Puppies flew through the air at Westview Elementary earlier this month. The plush yellow and black Labs landed in the outstretched arms of dozens of excited first-graders. These puppies have an important job: For the rest of the year they will serve as reading buddies to their first grade companions.

Cake lovers rejoice. Nothing Bundt Cakes, a national chain, has opened its first Spokane franchise and is celebrating with a grand opening on Saturday. Although the bakery on 29th Avenue is the first store in Washington, Nothing Bundt Cakes has deep Spokane roots: Co-founder Debbie Schwetz is a 1975 Lewis and Clark High School graduate and still has family in the area.

Reader feedback regarding my foray into political analysis (“One parent’s humble fix for Congress,” Oct. 3) has been decidedly mixed with the majority of emails chiding me for my less than serious take on the government shutdown. You might think I’d be dismayed by this chilly reception. You might imagine that I’d scurry back to safer topics like autumn leaves or little boys. You’d be wrong.

He thought he was helping his daughter set up for homecoming, but on Sept. 27, Col. Greg Adams was the surprise guest of honor at the Central Valley football game. Adams, director of the U.S. Army Emergency Preparedness Program, was honored for his 30 years of military service.

He thought he was helping his daughter set up for homecoming, but on Sept. 27, Col. Greg Adams was the surprise guest of honor at the Central Valley football game. Adams, director of the U.S. Army Emergency Preparedness Program, was honored for his 30 years of military service.

Herb McIntosh had an eagle-eye view of his future wife as he pounded shingles on the roof of her family’s new home. It was 1952, and the Washington State College student was working for a local contractor during summer break. “Marilyn kept coming out with her mother to tell the contractor how to build the house,” recalled Herb. “Her mom did all the talking, but Marilyn was the driving force.”

Longtime readers know I don’t wade into politics in this column. I let others do the dirty work of calling out corruption, explaining political policy and making fun of Joe Biden. Me? I stick to vital topics like cats, kids and underwear.

In 2012, a partnership between Southwest Airlines and St. Luke’s Rehabilitation Institute resulted in a new addition at St. Luke’s – a portion of a retrofitted airplane fuselage. The fuselage landed at St. Luke’s Community, a 2,200-square-foot therapy area dedicated to helping people recover after an injury or illness. And soon, it helped one of Southwest’s own to return to the job she loved.