When we lived in New England, one of the staples in my day was listening to a show called The Connection, a call-in show hosted by a man named Dick Gordon who had a marvelous way of drawing people into conversation and making connections for those who both talked and
I went to work today with great expectations. Sunday night I had fun at work. About three weeks ago, we began trying a new thing on Sunday nights because they are usually very slow. We now do a “Sunday Night Special” that I serve from a buffet in the dining
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When Ginger calls us to worship each Sunday, after the announcements, she says, As we stood in the spring sunshine this morning, our palm leaves in hand, I could see the faces of people as they inhaled sacred air, many of them closing their eyes, and then exhaled that same
on the road home the miles feel faster than those on the road out of town – my body responds from muscle memory, my mind working like a pace car,knowing what to feel with each passing billboard, how long to wait, how to titrate the anticipation. familiar roads are shorter
I walked the neighborhood tonight to The Green Room, our neighborhood bar, “serving Durham since Prohibition” in a small square building whose green walls are as infused with smoke as it is with stories. Beer and basketball were my menu tonight, as others shot pool and played table shuffleboard, each
Two unconnected things crossed my path today and I’ve been sitting here for the last half hour thinking about how they are connected. The first came my way through Jimmy, who served as a conduit to connect me to another guy talking about the fiftieth anniversary of gra phic
Since this is spring break at Duke, the campus restaurant has been closed and I’ve been working back at the restaurant where I started so I could earn my paycheck and also let Chef take her kids to Disney. I’ve loved being back over there. I like the
I broke my promise, or at least my practice. I missed writing the last two days, even though my commitment was to write everyday during Lent. The combination of the move, trying to get the phone company to get wifi hooked up at our new home, work, and sheer exhaustion
We moved into the house today for real. For the first time in eight months, we don't have a Pod in our driveway. The new place is stacked full of boxes and furniture several wonderful folks helped us carry in. In a few minutes, I'm driving
The lectionary passage for Sunday is John 11, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. In these days when the flow of life runs counter to my finding time to write, I chase words like a salmon trying to get upstream. Though the gospel accounts don’t say
I’ve only crossed the threshold a half dozen times, sat on a folding chair in the dining room eating Krispy Kreme doughnuts once and yet it feels more like home already than this house we’ve occupied since we came to town last year. Occupied is the right word,
When I get to work on any given afternoon, I have to walk through a wall of sound to get into the kitchen. The big boombox that sits on top of our giant mixer is blaring the Spanish AM station loud enough to curdle the milk. The good news is