Lake Martin is flat. Mirror flat. It is a perfect evening. The sun is low. The crickets are singing in full stereo. And I’m visiting with old ghosts.
No, I don’t know how to save this country. I don’t know much about anything. But I know family dinners ain’t a bad place to start.
I’m making changes this year. Little changes. The big changes never last. It’s little ones that stick.
“You don’t get married, because it’s the smart thing. You get married because a man is incomplete until he’s married.”
The manger was made of cardboard. It was stuffed with fresh hay. Genuine hay from the hardware store. The Christchild was a naked Cabbage Patch doll from Brianna Smith’s personal collection. Orange yarn for hair. Jesus was a redhead.
Santa Claus? Thank God he lives. And he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
The old man wiped damp eyes and said words I’ll never forget: “Who needs a bike when you have love?”
It wasn’t like he had done anything monumental, but the gesture meant so much. I suppose simply being noticed was the nicest thing anyone could have ever done for me.
It was simply that she was the only woman he ever loved. And after a few decades of marriage, she still is.
The students poured peanuts into their bottles. Messes were made. Bottles erupted on desks like Mount Saint Soft Drink. Everyone started to giggle.
So he’s sitting on the hood of his ‘73 Piece Of Junkola when an old guy at the next pump notices there’s something odd about this kid. Namely, the kid is wearing a tux.
Did you know that nearly eight out of every 10 Americans believe in angels? For the math challenged, that’s a whole dang lot of people. When it comes to global figures, seven out of 10 humans believe in angels.
Hundreds of years ago, when Choctaw Indians still lived on the Gulf Coast of Florida, Alabama, Louisiana, and Mississippi, they had a word in their language. It was a short word: Okeh.
And I want you to know that long ago, a woman once told me that if I counted my blessings, I would get meatloaf. I’m glad she made me do that.
The locals call this the greatest city in the world. Which is sort of stupid, if you ask me. Birmingham is a pretty small city, compared to your mega-cities. The greatest? Come on.
The beauty of Milo’s tea is that it’s not too sweet. It is the right balance of sugar and tea. In 12 fluid ounces of Milo’s tea you’re looking at a mere 26 grams of sugar. Which is nothing.
There is a lot of talk in the writing community about how artificial intelligence chatbots are going to replace authors someday.
My mother always used to tell me the same stupid thing: “Be yourself,” she was always saying. Give me a break.
He’s a good boy. A good man. A fine soldier. And that is why I thanked a perfect stranger for his service to our country.
“It sounds like a plot from a Hallmark movie,” he says. “But that’s how it all happened.”
The entire region has been succumbing to deadly heat this week. There have been 11 heat-related deaths in the Southeast recently. On Tuesday, a postal worker collapsed and died while on his route in Dallas.
My cousin was over for dinner; we got to talking about mayonnaise. One thing led to another. The conversation got heated, and eventually we were shouting.
A side-of-the-road restaurant. Way out in the sticks. The young boy was seated at the table with his mother and father. His mother had green hair. His father was bald, with tattoos on his face and on his scalp. The little boy was using a wheelchair.
There is magic in old things. You can’t find this charm in glowing monitors or phone screens.
There was excitement in the air. The same kind of under-the-surface joy that precedes all ball games. Only more so. Because, you see, this was a Miracle League game.
