This Alabama humidity is about to get on my last nerve. It didn’t get near dark enough yesterday during that so-called eclipse to hide whatever freestyle, Brillo pad interpretation my hair decided to attempt. I know it’s frustrating listening to people fuss about the weather. I’m usually the first one to snatch a knot in…
Category: Essays
Drive Like Your Kids Live Here
Before I get too far into this, let me state for the record: I do not have children, biological or otherwise. There were a few vague months spent in Mississippi back in the mid-90s which I can’t account for with complete accuracy. But I’m pretty sure that I didn’t give birth during that time. I…
Message in a Bottle
Sometimes when I don’t know what to write, I take out a book that someone bought me for Christmas which has emblazoned upon the cover: 500 Writing Prompts. The book has a prompt or two on each page and then some lines upon which you are supposed to write your response. I have never made…
Banana Handling Class
The three of us sat around the kitchen table doing our best to ignore each other when Eliot came hobbling in and said, “I’m going to be teaching a banana handling class today.” My sister, who usually doesn’t say anything until she’s finished her first cup of morning coffee, looked at her middle son and,…
Whitman, Alabama
Has anyone ever asked you if you like poetry? I’m curious because whenever someone asks me that question, I think to myself – a better question is: can you appreciate poetry? Liking poetry is fine. But simply liking poetry will leave you skating along the surface. Learn to appreciate it and you will learn to…
Just Put My Hair Anywhere…
Something happened to my hair yesterday. It wasn’t good. And, it happened on one of those days that I had to, not only leave the house but, see another person who fully intended to see me back. To make matters worse, we’d never met before which meant that I had to seem as close to…
The Thing About Falling in Love and Racehorses
The first time I fell in love, I was taking a second swing at kindergarten. The Board of Education had birthday-based rules and, because mine fell late in the calendar year, they decided that I wasn’t emotionally mature enough to move along to first grade. Guess I showed them. Donald was his name. He wore…