Lesson One: Remember What It Feels Like. Sunday nights I work at the Durham restaurant. The guy who is my second at Duke works there also, after doing the brunch shift on campus. When he got to work, he told me our Duke dishwasher had not shown up, which meant
“Whose picture is on the money?” he asked, before there was paper money peopled with presidents. I’ve got a Lincoln, Hamilton, and a couple of Washingtons bunched up in my pants pocket; wait – lucky day: there’s a Jackson in there, too. Not too many Benjamins around our house.
Peace, Milton
Tuesday morning I went hiking. I’m not sure I’ve ever written that sentence before because I’m not a hiker, particularly. But Bob, a fellow Pilgrim (as we, at our church, like to identify ourselves) asked me if I wanted to walk the trails along the Eno river,
To get up at five-thirty on a Thursday morning in the middle of a week where, thanks to presidential debates and baseball playoff games, I’ve not gotten enough sleep anyway seemed like a ridiculous idea. To spend a couple of hours walking from Chavis Park to the State
Ginger is headed to the big house -- MDA jail, that is. She was notified recently of her plight, though she was not told who snitched on her, since that person is now in "witness protection." Though the actual charges remain unclear, the long and short of it all
Peace, Milton
This coming weekend is Fall Break at Duke, something universities have added since I was in school. The students get an extra two days off next week, which means I do, too. The short break is a natural segue to a new menu for the restaurant, and a chance to
I’ve never really thought of myself as a scientist, but I’m learning more and more that I often play one in the kitchen. Much of why we do the things we do with our food comes down to basic science. If I don’t want my balsamic vinaigrette
I got to sing and play Saturday night at the same fundraiser I mentioned in my last post. My friend Terry is director of a program called Housing for New Hope, which was one of the recipients of the money raised. He is an amazing harmonica player and asked another
They had already sung two songs before he stepped out from the ensemble from the Durham Rescue Mission to sing a solo. The small group was made up of men who were clients of the mission rather than staff. They were dressed alike in white shirts and brown ties; most
I spent Saturday with a group from church on a “LifeCraft Retreat,” where we built little boats as metaphors of our life journeys. We all started with the same pieces of wood and a roomful of materials and possibilities and each emerged with small crafts that both showed parts of