“So scared of growing old/ I’m only good at being young.”
Candy bar wrappers and Mountain Dew cans
and packs of cigarettes we’d sneak down
a Carolina back road. The days of our youth.
You’re only seventeen once.
The radio played I remember running through
the wet grass, falling a step behind.
For us, it was a dirt road, twenty miles
per hour, skipping class because
consequences skipped us.
In the winter we made promises we knew
we’d break in the summer, just like the
hearts of shy girls we pushed into the pool.
You’re only eighteen once.
The first time death blew its cold, violent wind through my forest I was 12. I soaked it in visually as my grandmother’s already small body withered into an unrecognizable mess of blankets and tubes hooked to beeping machines in a cold room. Her mind was gone for months, if not years, and now the smallness of her would be swallowed up along with the faded memories of her days teaching, playing piano, and wearing pretend Sunday smiles for church as a pastor’s wife.
No moment in life is more sobering than when you know with full certainty you are…
You know the people who think they have a tremendous amount of power?
As in Resident Assistants. On college campuses, these individuals are the equivalent of university-level hall monitors, police without weapons, enforcers without teeth.
R.A.s exist to report on the overall health and safety of residents on their floor, but really they exist to slap the hands of petty rule violators.
The first three years of my work study in college were spent working in the post office which I actually really enjoyed. But I had no power there.
Alas, my senior year, I became the Resident Assistant…
There’s blues music bleeding through a
crack in the whiskey glass. A Stevie Ray Vaughn
song done in the baritone of someone else’s
heartbreak. He goes to where he’s not wanted.
Away from the bar he hates to the home
that hates him.
He watches from the outside, peeking
through the window of an ex-lover’s house.
It’s flooding in Texas, and wherever he is
that she isn’t. The line narrows: is he a
desperate romantic or desperate lunatic?
The doorbell’s been broken since she moved in,
but glass breaking announces arrivals just as well.
He just came to…
There’s a cliche saying that, when you hear it, makes you think of romantic relationships gone awry, but with one side still hopeful things will work out. It’s the old “let them go: if it’s meant to be they’ll come back to you.”
If we consider this in a business context, it feels like bad policy. If you have a customer that’s even remotely interested in purchasing your product, you use any tactic to get them to buy. …
In my daily Bible reading, I’ve recently begun going through the poetry of Psalms. I’m ten chapters in, and find myself burdened with one question: is any of this relevant to me?
The Psalms are often heralded as a beacon of light for weary souls. Psalm 23 is a favorite for ministers at funerals. But because many of these are written by David, there are a lot of references to enemies.
David had his fair share of them. There was everyone’s go-to underdog sports analogy of Goliath. There was King Saul. There was even David’s own flesh and blood, Absalom…
At any given moment, I can get on the website or app for my local news channel and find a number of stories that…aren’t local.
Shocking? Yes. Disturbing? Sometimes. Interesting? Well, yes! That’s why we click on them.
Right now the headline for one such story is about a mother in Chicago that killed her 12-year old son. That is a shocking headline. It’s a story that unnerves us. But I live in South Carolina. Why does that particular story matter to me?
When we think of clickbait, we think of various forms. It’s the spammy email that sneaks through…
Everyone has those seminal moments in life where you can remember exactly where you were when an event happened. You remember the colors of the moment. The smells, the sounds, the atmosphere that surrounded you. Everyone remembers what their senses experienced on 9/11.
I sat in a sparsely-filled cafeteria at Charleston Southern University, poking my fork at scrambled eggs, half paying attention to my Western Civ notes, half paying attention to the TV. I had an exam I was all but certain to fail that morning. …