Where the Crawdads Sing. This Book Will Wreck All the Other Books.

My grandfather was born Quentin Gerald Brown in 1919 in Blue, Oklahoma, a tiny, relatively unknown town near the border of Texas. From what I understand, when his mother became pregnant out of wedlock, they fled in shame from her family, toward his. From a more urban midwest city to the life of sharecroppers amidst the Dustbowl, where a lifetime of staggering poverty, profound loneliness, … Continue reading Where the Crawdads Sing. This Book Will Wreck All the Other Books.

It’s Too Hard to be Mindful. Especially In December.

Every year I swear it will be different. I promise myself all kinds of things (they are lies) in January, when I am feeling the joy of a brand-new, empty page that only a new year can bring. January always feels a little bit like the arrival of fresh snow. It tricks me into believing that it is actually the pure beauty that it appears … Continue reading It’s Too Hard to be Mindful. Especially In December.

A Little Ace Hardware Christmas Magic. On a Wednesday.

We got our Christmas tree tonight. We tried to go on Sunday, but by the time Kate’s lacrosse practice was over, Emma’s small group was finished, Ryan’s Cleveland Browns had destroyed my poor Bengals and the Atlanta United soccer game was over, we found out that Ace was closed. And, yes, we get our Christmas tree from Ace Hardware. In Cincinnati, we used to get … Continue reading A Little Ace Hardware Christmas Magic. On a Wednesday.