Future Arlingtonians may look back on our times as the era of the pandemic. But it’s also the era of renamings.
Author: Charlie Clark
When the county board holds hearings on plans to rename Lee Highway, expect an appearance from naysayer Bernie Berne.
My duties as a reporter broadened last week to accommodate the chance to interview a beauty pageant winner.
Hunger has long gnawed at a slice of our community. But the virus crisis may mark the first time that hundreds of neighbors have been seen lining up on the street for compassionately donated food.
Last month, amid coronavirus divisions in the Trump era, the north Arlington slice of Nextdoor traffic erupted into the insult-trading, debates-among-strangers you expect around the 700th comment on an ArlNow story.
Arlington’s own Robert E. Lee is posthumously back in the news.
To the scads of projects delayed by the virus crisis we must add the county’s breakthrough solution for the long-empty Reeves farmhouse.
Arlingtonions share with Falls Church and Fairfax compatriots the horror-filled memory of one of our region’s worst workplace accidents: the March 2, 1973, collapse of one of the Skyline Towers. Fourteen workers perished and 34 were injured.
Come with me on a virtual tour of Arlington’s secret passageways.
Scattered across our sainted subdivisions are nook and cranny straight-aways with no names. They’re not on most maps. You sort of have to know them to take advantage; locals prefer it that way.
Half a century later the emotions still sting. May 4, 1970, with “tin soldiers and Nixon’s coming,” per Neil Young’s lyric, four young anti-Vietnam war protesters were shot and killed by National Guardsmen at Kent State University.