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Another Southern Thing
Taylorsville, Mississippi: It’s a tiny place in South Mississippi. A guy in a blue Chevrolet pick-up truck drives past me, raises his hand on the steering wheel, and waves as if he knows me. I don’t know him, but I wave back. I’m pretty sure that if I tried that in New York City I’d be assaulted and or arrested. My dad had a habit of always waving at approaching vehicles, one hand on the wheel and the other hand holding a Pall Mall cigarette (ashes on the seat and floorboard). If a hand was empty, it’d be holding a cup of sugar and milk, with a touch of coffee.…
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Toxic Shame and You Can Too
Photo by Bob Coyne on Unsplash It’s around noon on a Sunday. I’m 14 years old, sitting in my dad’s Chevrolet work truck, which (and I don’t mean to brag too much here) is equipped with some fancy modern technology that I’m currently using. An 8-track tape player. Don’t be jealous. The speakers are vibrating with the comedic genius of a couple of dope-smoking hippies. I’m laughing and having an awesome educational enlightening time when quite unexpectedly, a short and very angry woman appears at the passenger door. She stands (as best she can at 5 feet 2 inches) at the truck and proceeds to pound on the window. I pause…
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Portland in October
And don’t forget your camera either Photo by Zack Spear on Unsplash As a Trial Defense Attorney for the Army Reserve, I had to attend many conferences. This one was in Portland. Oregon. Now, I had wanted to take along my good camera, but the battery was dead and I couldn’t find the battery charger. So, I said to my wife, “Wife, I’m not going to bother taking the other smaller digital camera (the one that takes really great pictures). After all, I’m only going to Portland. My first morning, ever, in Portland greeted me with sunshine. They told me this was rare in the Northwest. However, from the eighth floor, I…
