Pam Stone

It may be that yours truly will need to have a powwow with social activities directors, far and wide, regarding their choice of music for residents in both assisted living and nursing homes across our vast country.

I'm concerned about my son, “Steven.” He came home from college for a visit, and I was shocked to see that he's taken up knitting.

Paul and I spotted something exceedingly rare last week during a picnic with our dogs, not far from Zirconia, North Carolina.

I'm 21 and have been engaged to my fiancé, Scott, for a year and a half. We're getting married in September, and I can't wait.

I'm not exactly sure what it means, aside from habitat depletion, but I have seen a plethora of wildlife over the last couple of days.

Hey Aunty Pam, Well, I'm in the dog house and still don't know why. My girlfriend was talking about how she doesn't ever have anything to wear.

Let's make one thing clear: I did not survive, as a child, broken ribs, and a punctured lung, and later, as an adult, broken wrists and

Dear Aunty Pam, I have a real dilemma, and I hope you can take the time to help me. I am in my mid-70s, and my eldest son is about to get married for the second time in a couple of weeks.

“Why do you suppose they do it?” I queried Paul as he was vigorously soaping Poppy's neck in the bathtub. “What is it about a pile of horse manure, or something dead and decomposing, that acts as a magnet for a dog to roll in it?”

Dear Aunty Pam, I am hoping you can give me some of your sage advice about my eldest daughter. She's the only one of my five children who is yet to be married.