Whistling past the graveyard. That phrase has been running through my mind all week long like it’s on a neverending loop. Whistling past the graveyard. Whistling past the graveyard. Whistling past the graveyard. Frankly that’s how most of these essays get started. Some little thing — a memory, an image, a notion, a saying —…
Category: coronavirus
Sweet Dreams Are Made of This
Think warm thoughts. Think cool thoughts. Lie down and put a pillow on your stomach. Growing up, if I complained about being cold or hot or not feeling well, Mama would usually reply with one of these phrases. I would try to think hard about something that fit the situation, maybe Granny’s fireplace or the…
The Nightlife Ain’t No Good Life
It’s been a helluva week. My car broke down, and I had to walk the rest of the way to work. I passed a murky pool by some rundown apartments and saw a sunken Tonka dump truck barely visible in the green water. By the time I got halfway to my office it was getting…
Safer at Home, Stronger at Home
Well folks, here we are seven weeks into what started out as social distancing, then became shelter in place, and is now safer at home. Who thinks of the names? “Shelter in place” I get. It’s a common term you hear during tornado warnings and other act-of-God events. But “safer at home”? Sure. We are….
A Trip to the River and the Story of the Rogue Turnip
Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny, breezy, temperate Saturday, so the boys and I decided to take a drive down to Shelby County to see if we could find a deserted spot to sit out in the sun by the Cahaba River a little while and to see if the Cahaba lilies had started to bloom…
Easter in the Time of Coronavirus
It’s Easter Sunday. Jesus is back, but the Easter Bunny didn’t drop by. Baskets and plastic grass and chocolate rabbits just didn’t seem worth the risk of going to the store this year.
