Excuse me, did you just call me a fad?
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, life
I learned what the meaning of fad was the hard way. And I don’t just mean having to look it up in a dictionary. Since, I come before the mandatory use of home computers. I had a personal encounter with the word. It’s surprising, though, what one’s personal history of fads says about oneself. For me, in retrospect, my string of passing fancies was equivalent to that annoying solid beep of an emergency broadcast—“ in the event of an actual emergency, contact information will be provided.” That second part there, that never happened. Some of my “interests” were rather unique to me and me alone....
A word about lesbians…
Filed under: Deep South, education, faith, family, humor, life
So, Mississippi’s made the news, again. Have you heard? Itawamba County’s School Board has decided to cancel the local high school’s prom because one student, a lesbian, wanted to wear a tuxedo and bring her girlfriend as her date. Of course, the media is licking its chops, I’m sure, over this newest political deep-fried Panic Button. All the more so because it’s straight from the Heart of Dixie, also known as the Buckle of the Bible Belt. It was only a little more than a decade ago, wasn’t it?, when we were splayed across the nation’s newsrooms (again, the culprit being North...
Yes, Virginia, I am a vegetarian.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, faith, family, food, health, humor, life
You know what’s hard? Yoga. You know what’s harder than that? Trying to explain yoga to your precious family of aging Southern Baptists. Because if it’s not explicitly typed in the King James version of the Holy Bible then it’s most likely of the devil, who probably created yoga to trick Christians into performing exercises that would get them into positions they couldn’t get out of, thus holding them in place so he could catch them. But, yoga is a later issue. First, we have to address a more pressing item, though there are several items overall, not the least of which is the fact...
I don’t have to use a walker to pump my gas.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, humor, life
I have realized, lately, that I am, at best, a third cousin once removed from my own definition of self-awareness. I like to think I'm savvy and a smooth operator, most of the time, but I had a bit of a bitter pill to swallow yesterday, when, on my way back from Scooba (perish the thought!), I had to stop and get gas. This is hardly a new thing for me, but unlike my usual stop-and-gos at the Scooba Junction gas station, I had neglected to look at my gas gauge until I was in Brooksville, about twenty minutes north. I had no choice but to pull...
Sometimes, it’s a lonely thing. And sometimes, it’s like being Jesus.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, humor, life
I really ought to be on top of the world, right now. (And so, that’s why I am). I am 33 years old. And I’m OK with it. I had a great birthday, hobnobbed with artists, all my favorite people around me, and a chocolate cake that could create world peace. And, I didn’t do anything I had to apologize for the morning after, although there were some broken dishes in the middle of the street before the night was over. (And none of the guests were Greek, either). It was a weekend full of good things, good, true things. And despite this lingering...
The table of Christian Things.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, faith, humor, life, theatre
On some mornings, as I’m entering the Town That Was, aka Scooba, I have a small (though at one time it was) visual delight, usually, to my right, just as I bump over the railroad tracks, situated all alone in front of what may very well be a defunct fire station. And this is what my small (though at one time it was) visual delight consists of: a faded tent, no doubt purchased “as is,” from some desperate funeral home, I imagine. Beneath the tattered green fabric sits a cheap a la Fred’s-Giving-Away-the-Store-again! plastic table precariously atop four brittle fold-out legs. Adorning this table is a...
I’m not sure if it was a dead animal or just cheese grits.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, life, writing
They’ve got something with doors, around here. It’s the oddest thing: no double doors are both unlocked, at the same time. Only one side is. Ever. And you never know which side because it’s never the same side. This causes no end of embarrassment, as you can imagine. Especially for me, a new faculty member. Call me crazy but it really is a blow to your credibility when you can’t even open a door properly. It’s happened to me twice already today. This morning as I went to deliver the receipts from my conference trip, I turned back to tell the secretary, “Have a good...
Faith for five dollars…and Tennessee Williams.
Filed under: Deep South, education, Everyday, faith, family, life, theatre, writing
I did something nearly unforgiveable, today: I cried in class. Don't worry, no one saw me. The lights were off, and most were, I'm happy to say, engrossed in the video documentary I was showing on Tennessee Williams. I counted three sleeping students, but I only heard two of them...so I let them rest. They're athletes and all, you know. I've seen this A&E video on Williams a hundred thousand and six times, but today, today, the story resonated in a deep and tragic way, wholly new to me. I suppose it's the stress, I'm saying it's the stress, but whatever it was, it touched...
But, wait, let me back up and come at this like a drill.
Filed under: Deep South, Everyday, family, food, health, life, writing
If you don't mind, I'd like to tell you about my weekend. And what I learned. I have to say, I'm very glad that there are a wealth of good people in the State of Mississippi. It never ceases to amaze me, as long as I've lived here, how innately good so many of them are. And get this: I'm talking about the younger generation. Not just my Aunt Zora's quilting bee. The human spirit is alive, well, and brilliantly resilient in this state. Key word here: resilient. That's important to note because I'm fairly sure I was the Sword of Damocles from Friday, around...
Mistakes make you feel bad. Like Peter Scolari or Mario van Peebles.
Filed under: faith, food, language, life, theatre, writing
I've made a mistake. I know I've made, like, at least two mistakes, previously, in my whole life and this would make three, and that's like, a holy number, so maybe I've come full circle, now. God, I hope. And though I don't make many mistakes, I know quite well what it feels like; the three I've made already have hurt like the Dickens. You know what the Dickens feels like, don't you? It feels like a headache plus a backache plus a neckache plus a stomachache, and your stomach is connected to your knee bone and your knee bone's connected to your jaw bone, something...
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