Sense it in the music, feel it in the video, hear it in the book; Derek Perkins wants the beat of his life, the tone of his philosophy to come through.

Seven deer — impudent impediments ignoring traffic’s horns — dined on carefully manicured landscape as the quick red fox sprang across the road, yipped a pup-squeak and disappeared into the brush.

The horn lies silent and the reeds are still, but LeRoi Moore’s music lives in the hearts of others.

If you can expect a seven-fold investment on your giving, the Epilepsy Foundation of Virginia has seen a return of truly biblical proportions.

They’ve been segregated, medicated, sedated, institutionalized, sterilized and demonized for nearly as long as people have claimed to be civilized.

Jim McVay has a problem with giving; he can’t stop.

From where Vaughn Wagnon stands — about five feet deep — the Germans don’t have a chance of taking the Elks Lodge.

When the milk of human kindness is curdled by a sour economy, nonprofits must scramble to get their message out and keep donations coming in.

Mama must have always liked Charlottesville best: In the continuing sibling rivalry with its sister, Albemarle continues to get second billing.

Back in May, more than 10,500 people walked into the Thomas Jefferson Food Bank in need of something to eat.

Wash the Volvo, put on your clean jeans and, for crying out loud, comb your hair. We’re having guests down from the nation’s capital.

A rural, agrarian-based cultural affair located in a community that’s becoming ever more urban and urbane must work hard to stay relevant.

‘Violating her trust’Like a boy with his dog, Andrew Neilson and Cookie the macaw have a bond that even a novice can notice. That bond was officially broken Friday when Cookie, and 30 other macaws temporarily housed at the Central Virginia Parrot Sanctuary, were inspected, documented and returned to their original owners.

When the fan’s hit, the trees are down and the power out, society divides into those who can help and those who need it.

Local teens in the Civil Air Patrol are trained in ground search and rescue, and appreciate the focus and discipline the organization has taught them.

Drive beyond the “dog crossing” sign, past the concrete cow and yield to the careening golf cart crammed with laughing children as it crosses the driveway, and you will arrive at Bocce Camp.

Attacked by vicious butterflies, Carl D. Proffitt Jr. cured his anxiety over leading Monticello’s Fourth of July celebration through the Pledge of Allegiance by shaking hands with President Bush, providing a crisp salute and receiving one in return.

It was an exciting weekend of patriotic fervor with a presidential appearance, minting of new citizens, protests and other fireworks.

Monticello’s Fourth of July presidential event was a success for the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, a feel-good opportunity for the president and a lesson in losing friends and influencing your enemies for shouting protesters.

Hey, you! Touching that flaming butane torch to that battery of bottle rockets is not only unsafe, it’s illegal.

There are many ways to get into college, from hitting a ball or tackling a large man running at full speed to studying hard to reciting poetry while wearing a beret and smoking a fancy French cigarette.

A hundred years ago, when human relationships were free of carefully crafted propaganda and peer pressure to purchase proper designer duds, emotions were easier to moderate.

Olivia Heide’s Memorial Day lemonade stand started as a lesson in caring and kindness but wound up a primer on gratitude and appreciation.

I just made a deposit in my spiritual future.

Ann Hanna is missing a kidney, Tommy Eavers has it and everyone is fine with that, thank you very much.

The handwriting is shaky around the edges, but clear and to the point.
After 11 years, Wilbert Trusgo Farrar is still grateful for the police officer and rescue squad personnel that saved his life.

George Garrett wrote like a man.

It looked like a big, yellow Greene County school bus, but to Brenda and Aubrey Roach it was God’s own blessing.

While most of Middle America yanked ivy out of the yard or grilled brats to go with the potato salad, 6-year-old Olivia Heide sold cookies, lemonade and American flag pins outside a gas station.

Growling like an angry stomach, the bulbous monster hovered, hissed and fell from the sky, coming straight at Cider, who barked warnings until his fight-or-flight instincts ran toward run.