Southern Stories, Interviews, and Artifacts
Everyone has a sacred space. A place that allows time for quiet and adjustment, a reset, a place to listen for God. It’s a deeply personal space and can be found almost anywhere: a bedroom, broom closet, inside the car on a morning commute. Some can even create space in their own minds, no matter […]
“Babe, we might have to call somebody,” I said, using the small, quiet, whispery voice I use when I’m breaking bad news. After the thorough cleaning I’d already given it, the smell emanating from the refrigerator should’ve disappeared, but it hadn’t. Within 24 hours it had gone from curious and off-putting to unbearable, and I […]
This is part one of a two-part post. Although written in the middle of March Madness, it is as pertinent today as it was then. The only thing that’s changed is that in the summertime, the only one to meet me at the door in the afternoon is Paisley, and the irony is I miss the madness. […]
Daddy and I have always been close. Always. Until I was about fourteen or so, I had a healthy dose of equal parts fear of and respect and adoration for him. As I got older, there was less and less fear and more and more respect and adoration.
“Hey, I really need you to look at something.” I was loading the dishwasher when Jamie got my attention. At our house this sentence can mean one of about three things: 1) I need you to look at a really cool work something on my computer. 2) I need you to look at the unusually […]
From what Daddy has put together, my great-great grandfather William Thomas Morgan was twenty-five years old and a member of the field artillery fighting at Gettysburg when he got word that his wife and children were sick with typhoid fever. So, he left his battalion and walked most of the 844 miles back to Quitman, […]