Elements of Groveling
In lieu of a Valentine—or so I am told—most women would take a first-rate apology when we have done wrong. I am willing to learn. But I need your help.
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Born Too Late
Captivated by a time before my time, I increasingly find myself most at home in the presence of the past.
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Holiday Lies
I'm dreaming of a Christmas free of the harmless fibs, gentle untruths, and little white lies that pile up like (fake) snow.
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Never-Ending Grace
Before a waiting feast, eternal blessings are what a child endures and an old man learns to savor.
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The Vanishing Redneck
Let us raise a red Solo cup to the men who wear a Caterpillar hat without a trace of irony.
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Coming Home
Though the landmarks of my past may shift and change, transformed from the landscapes of my youth, this will always be my hometown.
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Southern Journal: The Eternal Gulf
As the crisis creeps further into our past, let us never forget the precarious beauty of the place we almost lost.
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Southern Journal: The Gift of Loafering
Less active than piddling, more respectable than slacking off, this talent requires a clear conscience and a light heart
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Southern Journal: My Brother's Garden
Able to coax life from bare earth, his wisdom is rooted in things I will never understand
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Southern Journal: Why, Thank You
Under orders from my lovely wife, I am working on expressing my gratitude. I’m a writer. How hard could it be?
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Southern Journal: Love Song
Her heart broke over a song in the wind, the unanswered call of a lonesome bird. Until, one day, it was answered
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The Fine Art of Piddling
The act of passing time, without waste or regret, is a cause well worthy of lifelong study.
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Southern Journal: Words on Paper
Even when a whole library can fit in your palm, the gravity of stories in dog-eared books will never grow obsolete.
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Southern Journal: O Christmas Tree
In the spirit of family tradition, I figured the state wouldn't miss one small cedar.
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The Impossible Turkey
A certain magazine's cover-worthy birds have me all riled up. This year, I'm calling party foul.
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Southern Journal: All Saints' Day
New Orleans' most illuminating spirits are not found in a graveyard on October's last eve, but in the hauntingly beautiful traditions that play out the day after.
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Southern Journal: For the Love of the Game
In a region where fans bleed their team's colors, fall's favorite game still takes our breath away.
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Southern Journal: No Place Like Home
It is often true, that life imitates art. Even then, especially then, the show–and life–must go on.
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Southern Journal: Stepfather's Day
He has none of me in him. But the son I inherited taught me more about fatherhood that I ever thought I would know.
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Southern Journal: Traveling Food
They were quick bites, easy to eat with one hand on the wheel, and not so good for your health. But the greatest meals I ever ate on the road were a far cry from fast food.
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Southern Journal: The Quill and the Mule
How do you know you've arrived as a Great Southern Writer? The answer is a little asinine.
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Southern Journal: The Roses of Fairhope
On her last trip, she came for the Gulf but fell in love with a garden.
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Southern Journal: My Last Meal
What would your dream plate look like, if you could have every dish you ever loved, all at once?
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Southern Journal: New Year's Irresolutions
The only thing a Southern man should bother giving up? A hopeless resolution.
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