American Christians, this is on you. For years, you have told us that we - the atheists, the agnostics, the homosexuals, the Muslims, the liberals - are the reason bad things happen in America. You have argued that mass shootings are due to our immorality, that we removed God from our schools and homes, that our … Continue reading #FakeChristians
Home is a base, a starting point, a fixture to which I latch a tether, however temporarily. Like a climber reaching for the next anchor point, I’m always searching for somewhere new to fasten a hold.
It's amazing to think, if not for my sixth grade teacher, I might be an engineer instead of a writer.
It was an ugly, brown polyester gas station attendant’s jacket, made all the more unsightly by large rips, frayed edges, and a phalanx of safety pins. I thought it was the coolest thing I'd ever seen.
I'm using this space to say thank you to those whose lives became intertwined with mine throughout this past decade, for better or for worse (for me, mostly the former; for them, mostly the latter). This was a solitary journey for the majority of the years, yet I didn't do it on my own.
For a variety of reasons over the years, I've held on to a great many items. Some for practical purposes, some because they function as a surrogate for my memory and, yes, even some for sentimental reasons. It happens.
Come with me on a journey into the ancient past: 2005.
I'm sitting in an airport being barraged by an odd sight: T-shirts, fleeces and jackets emblazoned with the logos for the Kansas City Royals and Chiefs or the Kansas Jayhawks.