When I was little, going to my grandma’s house actually felt like the song; Over the river and through the woods. My paternal grandparents lived about an hour north of us and on holidays, we made the drive up to visit them. There’s something dreamlike about driving off to grandma’s house to stay for a […]Read more "A Moment of Living Magic"
Each summer, our youth group joined other churches from our Super-Christian North Texas district for a week of camp that took place at a Pentecostally-sanctioned camp ground. It was a week of field-day games, non-coed swimming, sexually-repressed flirting with other sexually-repressed teenagers and no less than two hellfire and brimstone services each day. None of […]Read more "Summer Camp"
I had a fairly normal suburban American childhood. My dad worked in downtown Dallas which felt like a wondrous Oz—oversized and industrial with a skyscraper lit in neon green light presiding over the cityscape—but back in our neighborhood, life felt more simple. Not quite Munchkinland, but simple. Summers in the suburbs were speckled with block […]Read more "The Duck Pond"
There’s a daredevil in all of us and what that means differs person-to-person. One person’s sky diving is another person’s speed dating which is another person’s wearing that red dress to the office. When I was young, my version of skydiving was climbing as high as I could in our backyard tree. If the branch […]Read more "In my Rear-View: The Unencumbered Freedom of Youth & the Great (Car) War"