Here is the good news for the Georgia liberal Democrats. There appears to be a light at the end of their long, dark tunnel called the Georgia GOP.

The City of Roswell lost another transportation director, their sixth resignation in 12 years. Only this time the reasons behind the departure were not exactly what city executives wanted you to believe.

There are 58,209 names listed on that black granite wall. 58,209 soldiers who gave their lives fighting a war that many of them did not understand until they set foot in the jungles of Vietnam. A war that many do not understand to this day.

Whether seen by the sun-dappled light of day or when the street lamps float shadows among the leaves of towering oak trees, a five-mile strip of Windward Parkway is as true a restaurant row as you’ll find in the metro area.

In a stinging rebuke of Roswell Mayor Jere Wood’s and City Administrator Kay Love’s proposed fiscal year 2008-2009 budget, Roswell City Council members voted unanimously to defer a vote for approval until June 30. The new budget cycle is set by law to take effect July 1, 2008.

In the white-gloved Alpharetta of old, people held the door for one another as they bade pleasant good mornings. Men tipped their hats to the ladies, and if they were eligible, did their courting after the Sunday sermon.

After five months of relative inactivity, the 2008 Roswell City Council finally took some pro-active preliminary action. The Council gave the potential go-ahead during a public work session last week to find the money for a new northern bridge over Ga. 400 designed to alleviate local congestion along Holcomb Bridge Road at the Ga. 400 interchange.

It was a little bit of selfishness, George Nelson admits now, trying to get a memorial built in Roswell 13 years ago to honor his Vietnam brothers.

“My God, she’s just a little girl,” a trauma center nurse at the Medical Center of Central Georgia remembers blurting out when confronted with a limp body on a stretcher.

Pronounced dead on arrival at the Macon hospital one afternoon last fall, the 14-year-old, whose head smashed against a Plexiglas barrier when her taxicab collided with another vehicle, might have been saved had the ambulance arrived within what trauma specialists call “the golden hour.”

Local law enforcement braces for Obama backlash.

This is not the conversation one might expect in Barack Obama’s colorblind America. Especially on the outskirts of North Fulton County.

“Daddy, why does his dream make you so mad?” asks Kimberly, nine, as she and a hulking man in camouflage step over fallen pine logs on a raw, damp afternoon in western Forsyth County, about 30 minutes north of Milton.

“Sweetie, it’s science fiction, like the comic books you read,” Thomas Stevenson replies in a gentle, fatherly tone.

Steadying Kimberly’s shoulders as they approach another slab of deadwood, Stevenson notices the bewilderment in his fourth grader’s gaze, so he tries again to put her curiosity to rest. “The dream is that everybody is the same,” he says. “In other words, if you get a potato, I get a potato. If I get a loaf of bread, you get a loaf of bread. If you live in a mansion, then I should too.”