Thornton Kennedy

An Atlanta banker and civic leader was murdered in his home by an intruder he had been trying to catch for years.

The headstones of abandoned graveyards are barely visible along the roads and paths cutting through our neighborhoods. They are fading reminders of the families and pioneer settlers who laid the

Religious leaders started a local chapter of the Young Men’s Christian Association in response to the rowdier trappings of early Atlanta.

A few weeks ago, a name I hadn’t thought of in years flitted across my mind.

Trains created Atlanta, but they also nearly destroyed it.

Each year, when the calendar reaches this point, I reflect on the things for which I am grateful.

At least once a year, usually around this time, someone sends me the video for the parody song “One Night in Buckhead.”

The downtown department store display window is as much a part of Christmas as twinkling lights and the jolly old elf.

In 1914, as the world became enmeshed in war, millions of bales of cotton piled up in Atlanta warehouses.

Our older brother was a surgeon when it came to the presents under the Christmas tree.