For my son’s first Easter, now five years ago, he had an adorable little suit to wear to church.

But we didn’t go that year.

Instead, Easter weekend was spent in a new parent panic, first at a doctor’s office, then at a hospital having him X-rayed. As anyone who has raised a baby knows, a high fever in a little one, especially the first time, is rather worrisome.

Unlike President Obama and Congress and their sequester, Durham's Byron Baldwin and his team of philanthropists actually are giving away money.

Of course, Baldwin and the rest of the Research Triangle Park Black Business Resource Group aren't dealing with anything close to $85 billion.

But the $4,000 in college scholarships that the BBRG plans to dispense in the coming weeks will help some families keep balance on their particular fiscal cliffs.

Never keep sour cream in your refrigerator more than six years.  It’s a lesson to live by, along with avoiding ground wars in Asia.

At the Richmond City Jail in Virginia, a nonprofit group for girls and a sheriff came together to do right by the city’s daughters. Multiple media outlets in Virginia have covered the recent father-daughter dance at the jail, and it’s worth noting here, too. The dads at the dance were nonviolent offenders. The daughters were simply daughters who wanted to spend time with their fathers.

An event like this sparks several questions. Why did the fathers do something to get locked up? Why didn’t they put their children first? Why are the mothers having children with these men? Why, why, why. Judge, admonish, put down. All those questions do nothing to help the girls who are already living their lives with incarcerated dads.

Today’s column is a variety pack – something for each of you. First, a follow up to my January column on “Illuminating Durham Corners,” about places of significance – for whatever reason – in Durham. I received a letter from Anne Hamilton Daye, who told me about the corner she finds very interesting and beautiful. Believe it or not, she says, it is Mutual Heights at the corner of Fayetteville Street and Cornwallis Road. The streets meet again elsewhere in Durham, but the corner she’s talking about is across from Beechwood Cemetery.

This day in (my) history —

1946: I am born, which makes me so old I can remember when land lines were just lines and only had a choice of three two digits.

All things considered, I'd rather be in Rome. Isn't everyone?

Tout le journalism monde has descended on Rome since Pope Benedict XVI's surprise retirement last month. The ensuing Vatican intrigue has been appropriately sumptuous: Was it the gay cabal? Blackmail? Did the butler do it?

I’ve found another thing I can’t fix: a smoke alarm.

I hadn’t intended to try to fix it. I didn’t know that smoke alarms ever needed fixing. I figured that they sort of fixed themselves, like cats.

What’s your allegiance? We like to form ourselves into little groups, we Americans, we Southerners, we North Carolinians. Durhamites. Chapel Hillians. Hillsboroughers. Raleighites. Triangles. Piedmontians. Whatever. We enjoy being in groups. Divide, divide, divide. County, city, town, neighborhood, street. University. OK, that one’s warranted. Regular readers know I’m a Hokie, and that’s true even when the basketball team is, well, underperforming, to put it nicely in this month of March Madness.

After a series of late-night negotiations, I am proud to announce that my wife and I have solved our fiscal-cliff-debt-ceiling-budget-deficit-sequester crisis and also improved our score on yesterday’s Sudoku.

I wonder if there’s much to the notion of your life flashing before your eyes?

Not just the moments permanently planted there, like childbirth and weddings and graduations and even funerals, but all those other moments we wish we could bottle.

More frequently asked - but rarely responded to - questions about this column:

How do you start the column?

Generally, at the beginning. Sometimes, we start in the middle, but only when we’re sure there’s sufficient fuel in the tank before turning the ignition. A self-starter, however, is always useful because that would let me stay in bed a little longer on cold mornings. Remember if you’re not a self-starter to get a battery-powered one and wind it up and let it write a few paragraphs before stepping in when it’s time for the punch line and for taking all the credit.

I’m mad at Congress right now. I know, I know. Who isn’t?

Specifically, because of the current partisan gridlock and threat of economic catastrophe, the Wings Over Wayne Air Show has been cancelled. Set for May 18-19 at Seymour Johnson Air Force Base here in North Cackalacky, it’s a reasonable drive to go see military aviation on display. But there won’t be any flying into the great blue yonder because of Congress.

This air show, like another at Joint Base Langley in the Norfolk, Va., area, has been cancelled because of our federal government’s inability to compromise. Can I get a harrumph?

Now that you’ve signed in and finally remembered your password, and recalled that the letter p in the middle of your password is actually supposed to be a capital P, and that you used a # rather than a & at the end of the password, please answer the following security questions to access your account:

I settled into my seat for “Mary Poppins” on press night at the Durham Performing Arts Center last week, and flipped through the program. I saw a full-page house ad with a photograph of Jay Rogers, one of the event staff. Oh, that’s nice, I thought. DPAC often recognizes the people who greet and seat folks on show nights. Then I read the accompanying words: “Jay Rogers: June 20, 1940 – January 5, 2013.”