I've seen at least ten U. S. Presidents come and go in my lifetime. Plus, four wars, the fall of countless dictators, and the life and death of more celebrities than I could ever remember.

And one Queen of England. Queen Elizabeth II.

Pretty amazing when you think of what the world was like in 1952 when her father's sudden death made her queen overnight - and what the world's like in 2012. But there, throughout the decades of revolution, Elizabeth has been, as one leader said, "a constant in a changing world."

So she really deserved the massive party England threw in her honor this week. "The Diamond Jubilee," they called it. Sixty years - only the second monarch to do that in 1,000 years of British history. I've been to England. It's usually a pretty buttoned-down place. But they were bonkers the past few days. And even news shows in America - you know, the "colonies" - seemed pretty taken with the celebration, the pageantry, and the extraordinary woman being honored.

Who'da guessed it? The Hatfields and McCoys just became TV stars!

The History Channel tried something new last week - their first-ever dramatic mini-series. About the most famous feud in American history. Some major stars like Kevin Costner (patriarch of the Hatfields) and Bill Paxton (head of the McCoys) gave the story some Hollywood clout. It turned out to be the top entertainment TV show in ad-supported cable history. A bit of a blockbuster!

Just the mention of the name John Edwards brings out some really strong reactions. Most of them range from disgusted to just plain venomous.

The former Vice Presidential candidate's actions may not be criminal before the law - man's law, at least - but they violate even our morally jaded society's standards of decency and morality. His wife was dying of cancer. He was having an affair with a campaign worker - and fathering a baby he later denied was his.

So his virtual acquittal on charges of using campaign funds to cover up what he'd done left a lot of people - even some of the jurors - feeling displeased and uneasy.

So I'm in the backyard with our six-year-old grandson when, out of the blue, he says, "Grandpa, I'm going to be married someday."

Oh boy. My brain is in high gear, searching for something wise to say. My grandson saved me - with five little words. "But it's up to Jesus."

Oh boy. Here we go with melted grandfather in the yard. That little conversation has replayed in my head - and my heart - a dozen times since then.

When I was in high school, it seemed like girls had to explain if they weren't a virgin. Now they have to explain if they are. Our culture sees virginity as a bit of an oddity. Curious. Nice - sort of. Maybe slightly unnatural.

One cable news network posed this question to their viewers: "Why are we so obsessed with virginity?"

"I'm graduating today."

That was Will Norton's last message on his Twitter account. A year after an EF5 monster tornado roared through Joplin, Missouri, no one wants to erase that message. Only minutes after his graduation, Will became one of the 161 people who died on that violent night. Out of countless tornado accounts, his story has deeply touched me.

It's a good thing our oldest son could outrun his sister when they were kids. Especially after one of our "earthquake drills." Oh, the earth wasn't really shaking. It was another one of those inventions of a wacky daddy.

It started after we returned from a trip to California where we heard a lot about earthquakes. So - for no intelligent reason I can think of - I would occasionally yell randomly, "Earthquake drill!" And the ensuing script went something like this. Brother would run to his sister and hold her tightly. Father: "What are you doing, son?" Brother: "You said if there was an earthquake, we should hang onto something heavy!" This is when speed saved his young life.

Actually, that's pretty good advice when things are moving that never moved before. Hang onto something heavy.

Nine years old and oh, so proud. Proud of the gift I had just bought for my mom for Mother's Day, that is. I picked it out myself. I paid for it with my own allowance. And I ruined it all by myself.

It was a two-carnation corsage. With a plastic bumblebee. That bumblebee was really cool. I was pushing the speed limit on my bicycle with the white florist box perched on my handlebars. Until I hit a bump and it went flying. I ran over my Mother's Day present. The flowers were crushed. So was I.

Ah, the lost art of tying a tie. I experienced it this past weekend as the man doing the marrying at a young couple's wedding.

It was fairly amusing watching the helpless look on the groomsmen's faces as they were handed their necktie to put on for the ceremony. There they stood, fingering that mysterious piece of cloth, wondering what to do with it. I suggested to the guys my theory as to how ties came to be - they were invented by a woman who had a big time grudge against men. Gloating over the thought that every time men would have to dress up, they'd strangle themselves.

They're the guys who wear dark glasses, talk to their wrist, and wear that trademark stone face. They're the almost legendary Secret Service agents who guard the life of the President of the United States.

But even the President himself was joking about them the other night at the White House Correspondents' Dinner. He said, "I had more to say, but I have to get the Secret Service back before their new curfew."