Impressionist-like landscape Leaving work last Friday afternoon, and even a couple of moments earlier in the week, I paused to drink in the landscape around our office campus, so eerily quiet just now. It always possesses a bucolic beauty, even on the bleakest winter days. But at some point when I was too preoccupied with … Continue reading Frozen Moments: A Memory
Memoirs
The Essence of Us
For days stretching into a couple of weeks now, I’ve been working on deep cleaning and reorganizing the creamy yellow office space at the top of our steps, a small but sunny room I share with The Chef—his desk situated at one end and mine at the other like a pair of bookends, with … Continue reading The Essence of Us
A Memory: Living Like the One Percent
The main condition for the design, we said to the contractor standing in our Knoxville back yard 15 years ago, is for the pool to look like it’s been here since the house was built, in 1926. Yes, he said, he thought he could do that. No vast expanse of boring white concrete pool deck, … Continue reading A Memory: Living Like the One Percent
Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
/mō·jō/ noun 1. a magic charm, talisman, or spell. Heck, I’d add super power to that list. Why not? Somebody inadvertently rattled my cage not long ago when they suggested blogging is obsolete. I saw it float by in a comment thread on one of my social groups on the web. (I believe the precise words were, … Continue reading Memoir: Gettin’ My Mojo On
Journal Entry: Confessions of a Christmas Control Freak
Is there any time better for derailing a self-proclaimed control freak than the holidays? I mean the Christmas holidays, and not the beachy summer vacation I’ve been coveting since we had our first cold snap, and forget about poetic hoary frost: I’m talking single digits, when the deck boards outside our back door explode as … Continue reading Journal Entry: Confessions of a Christmas Control Freak
Nostalgic Story: High-Waisted Trousers and Sensible Boots
“This is better than Saks Fifth Avenue,” quipped the well-heeled older woman when the two of us bumped elbows examining rustic pottery mixing bowls and honey pots. One look at her and you could tell she’d seen the inside of Saks and probably others of its ilk, and many times. “Anyway,” she went on, “you … Continue reading Nostalgic Story: High-Waisted Trousers and Sensible Boots
Family Story: Baked Beans on the Ceiling
“Are those…baked beans…on my kitchen ceiling, Grandmother?” It was my mom’s perturbed voice. You could also tell when she was perturbed by how she called somebody. Granny Grace—my great grandmother—was always just Granny, or maybe occasionally Gracie, but ‘Grandmother’ was the moniker mom used when Gracie did something vexing. Come to think of it, Gracie … Continue reading Family Story: Baked Beans on the Ceiling
Music Story: Remembering Aretha
This morning I listened to a rare interview with Aretha Franklin, talking about what it was like growing up the daughter of a celebrated pastor who was close friends with Martin Luther King, Jr., and who routinely hosted Nat King Cole and others of his ilk in the Franklin home. The interview included an excerpt … Continue reading Music Story: Remembering Aretha
Family Story: It’s in the DNA
‘We don’t hide crazy,’ I said. ‘We put it on the porch and let it entertain the neighbors.’—Nick Wilgus Surely you’ve seen some iteration of that quote in the context of how ‘crazy’ is handled way down South. The gist is, any self-respecting Southern family is not ashamed of the crazy aunt or the second … Continue reading Family Story: It’s in the DNA
Mom Is Human: a Memphis Memory
/ˌSHto͝orm o͝on(d) ˈdraNG/ noun – turbulent emotion or stress. In the eastern suburbs of Memphis, Tennessee, you can tell a tornado’s coming—or at the very least a horrific storm—long before the civil defense sirens sound. The wind picks up red soil from rice farmers’ fields over in West Memphis, Arkansas, near the western shores of … Continue reading Mom Is Human: a Memphis Memory
