I began this morning with this thought from Donald Miller: Leaders aren’t cynical. I found this song running through my head this afternoon, from Jackson Browne: Doctor, my eyes cannot see the skies – is this the price for having learned how not to cry And it’s been a
Here in America we yell at each other as though anger were a pre-existing condition, and diatribe an anagram of democracy; but screaming doesn’t make it so: louder and truer are not synonyms -- the same goes for rich and smart. Using poetry to talk politics is like giving
Years ago – OK, many years ago, my father and I were at a country fair in Cleburne, Texas. We walked around, ate fried things, and I remember enjoying the evening for the way it let him tell stories of his life growing up that I had not heard before. One
Thanks to a link from a friend, I sat down to these words after watching my NCAA Men’s Basketball Bracket go bust, thanks to the upsets of the day: The world is a confusing place. Correlation looks like causation; the signal sounds like the noise; randomness is everywhere. This
Today was the first day of the week that I have not had to go from school to the Duke restaurant. Instead, I came home to cook dinner. OK, first I took a basketball nap, meaning I dozed off watching first round games of the NCAA Men’s Tournament, and
On my way from school to kitchen this afternoon, I had the misfortune of being on I-40 when they decided to block it because the Vice President was visiting somewhere nearby. He never came anywhere near the gang of terrorists parked around me. And I was thirty minutes late
I started rereading A Passage to India today. One of the people I work with at the Durham restaurant was asking for books to read and I suggested my favorite of E. M. Forster’s novels. When she said she was going to read it, I decided I would go
In the shadow of the chapel steeple we’ve simmered and sautéed all evening, following the familiar patterns we know, trying a few new things, marking time by making dinners, passing plates, and, finally, taking out the trash. This morning, time was moved along by turning pages, the clicking of
I gave my notice to my chef who hired me for both the Duke and Durham restaurants. Though my exit will be somewhat gradual over the next five or six weeks, I am leaving my job as a professional chef to return to teaching, and specifically teaching English in a
A certain man had two sons. It’s the way Jesus started a lot of the parables, including the one we call the Prodigal Son, which, I might add, is named for the younger sibling. It’s one of those stories I’ve heard so many times I can picture
I continued my reading of Nora Gallagher’s Practicing Resurrection and only got about five pages in when I a quote that brought the rest of the day rushing back to me. A spiritual director told me once that God is found on the edge of things, in the margins.
Abel spent the afternoon prepping the vegetable plate: slicing shiitakes and scallions, reducing the risotto, and spreading the mixture on sheet pans to let it cool. Then he enlisted me to make the rice balls and roll them in Japanese breadcrumbs. He cut sweet potatoes, blanched greens, and roasted garlic