I was going to do one of those year in review things where I wrote about all the good things of 2016. And then I remembered: I already wrote…
Well, I made it to Rio. I would say the city is approximately 63% ready for the Olympics, but that’s an early estimate. And they do have four more days.
I think I mentioned in the last post that I was working on one of the most emotional stories of my life as a writer. It is…
A few years ago, I asked friends to send me a list of the greatest country songs ever recorded. Country music constituted a huge void in my musical library — and really it was embarrassing. I should know SOMETHING about it. The only country songs I can remember hearing as a young man were:
Todd, an editor over at the excellent “Our State” magazine is tricky. He is always trying to get me to write stuff for them. I have told him repeatedly that while I’m flattered, and I love the magazine, I really don’t have time to do any more writing. And he always answers by saying something…
My wife Margo has taken to calling Augusta National “the happiest place on earth,” which is strange because Margo neither plays golf nor particularly likes it. One of the quickest ways in my house to get a few minutes of peace is to tell Margo and our two daughters, “Yep, I think…
Dear Elizabeth,
The last thing you want at this point in your life is Dad advice. I didn’t want any when I was 14 either. So … don’t think of this advice. Think of this as a story about a kid I met. Well, Jarryd Wallace is 25. He’s a kid to me.
Kenny died Tuesday night around 9:15 p.m. in Charleston.
I’m so lucky to have known him, and luckier still to have seen him one last time.
Something really weird happened on my drive to Charleston to see a dying friend. My shuffled playlist began playing Elton John’s “Funeral for a Friend.” Well, no, that’s not exactly the weird part — I mean, how weird could it be to hear a song on your playlist? Hearing it was pure chance…
She’s 14 now, a turbulent age. Everyone had warned us. There will be times when she’s still your little girl, they said. And there will be other times when she lashes out with such fury, you will wonder where everything had gone wrong. Everyone warned us, and we believed them. We had planning…
We were not an “I love you family” when I was growing up. We knew families that were, of course, knew of parents who punctuated every phone conversation with “I love you,” knew of children who could not go out to play without first shouting “Bye! I love you!” into an empty hallway on the assumption it would…
