Polishing the silver on a glorious Sunday afternoon means one of two things: the silver is tarnished, or I’m procrastinating. I leave you to draw your own conclusions. Today I had a vestry meeting after church, which meant I got home mid-afternoon, antsy to move around after sitting on my bum for about three hours … Continue reading Journal Entry: Sunday Soup and Silver Polish
Tennessee
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 Somebody inadvertently rattled my cage not long ago when they suggested blogging is obsolete.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
A Christmas Story: Holidays Are Hard
A few days ago something or other I saw on the telly prompted me to hop onto the web and find out who’s living in my erstwhile home in Tennessee now—whether it’s the same people who bought it at auction in 2012, mere moments before the bank would’ve foreclosed on it, as it turns out. … Continue reading A Christmas Story: Holidays Are Hard
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
Music Story: Verdi + Friends
Giuseppe Verdi’s Messa da Requiem—or simply Requiem, as it’s often called—is big work that goes down like a gulp of a chewy Cabernet, a soul-satisfying swill of life that gets bigger and better with every reprised chorus of Dies Irae—the day of wrath. It was among the last of his works, near the end of … Continue reading Music Story: Verdi + Friends
The Stories Our Scars Tell
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, goes the saying. When my kiddo was only a peanut he took a bad spill in the foyer of our Knoxville home and landed face first on an unforgiving surface. His cheek met the pointy corner of a single step leading from the foyer into the kitchen of … Continue reading The Stories Our Scars Tell
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
Dogged Adventures: No Complaints About Rainy Days
When it’s cold-ish, rainy, and a bit blustery on vacation, you spend a fair amount of time in your cheap hotel room doing mainly nothing. Or riding shotgun around town with your twenty-something while he shows you new stuff and changed stuff and plain missing stuff. Five years is long enough for the landscape to … Continue reading Dogged Adventures: No Complaints About Rainy Days
