The Dancers
The old man showed up to visit his granddaughter in the pediatric oncology wing of the hospital. He walked into his granddaughter’s hospital room. The little girl’s face turned 101 shades of thrilled.
Americana
The Big Day
I’ll call her Julie. Julie parked the car in the prison-visitor parking lot. Her hands were shaking, but not from nerves. More from excitement.
The Academy That Wanted to Be Ivy League: West Point, Rankings, and the Cost of Forgetting War
West Point does not need to be Harvard. America already has Harvard. What it needs—what it has always needed—is an academy singularly focused on producing officers whose primary purpose is to close with and destroy the enemy.
The Dogs Who Own Us
I used to volunteer at an animal shelter. I loved it. My favorite place in the shelter was called the “Introduction Room.” This was the room where people went to meet the dogs that were up for adoption.
The Day the Fighting Cocks Died: How West Point Traded the Warrior Ethos for Political Safety
That was 1967. Vietnam was raging. Cadets were not being groomed for cable news panels or Senate confirmation hearings. They were being prepared for jungles, rice paddies, ambushes, and body counts. Humor, especially gallows humor, wasn’t a problem to be solved—it was a survival mechanism. The name “Fighting Cocks” wasn’t vulgar to them; it was irreverent, aggressive, and just juvenile enough to signal that these were young men who understood they were not being trained for polite society. They were being trained for war.
The Church Lady Elegy
When I was a kid, church ladies ran the whole world. Elderly women were always telling me what to do, randomly appearing from the shadows and trying to feed me.
Texas In My Windshield
Dear Texas, I am driving through your state today, and I just wanted to say that I am a big fan. I’ve always loved your heart. Your mind. Your hands. And above all, your Willie.
America-As-It-Was
At the start of Trump 2.0 Democrats worried about the future for their children, grandchildren and themselves. Republicans had the same worries. We all want to return to an America-As-It-Was. Democrats, seem to place the time at 2021 – Republicans, circa 1950.
The Hills Are Alive With the Sound of Muzak
Canned music. It’s everywhere. You cannot get away from it. It is always playing in public spaces. Grocery stores, hotel lobbies, airplanes, colonoscopy exam rooms.
Lithium. It’s Not The End Of The World As We Know It
Oil was a critical resource we were running out of, until we were not running out. Same with Lithium.
The Great Festival of People
Sometimes you meet people. People you feel like you’ve met before. Strangers whom you’ve mysteriously known all your life.
Somehow
Go Down, Moses
She was walking her hound. It was a young beagle. Loose skin. Smooshy face. Uncoordinated feet the size of Lodge skillets. I was in Forsyth Park, in the heart of Savannah. It was overcast and gray. There were various soccer teams on the field, doing drills. And I was mesmerized by the animal.
Found in Translation
I don’t know her name. I don’t know anything about her. She is a sign language interpreter. That’s all I know. She sits onstage during tonight’s keynote address for the Savannah Book Festival. She is translating speech into ASL. She interprets for upwards of an hour.
The People You Meet in Jackson, Mississippi
Her name is Joeann. She works at the Hampton Inn in Jackson. She tends the dining room, making the breakfasts, and cleaning off tables. She is easy to talk to.
Savannah in the Morning
Savannah. The sun is not up. The city is dark and foggy. I am the first one awake in my hotel. I am always the first one awake. I don’t know why. As a kid, I could sleep until Carson came on. Now I get up before the rooster clears his throat.
The Reviews Are In
Today, Sean of the South lampoons comments found on the internet regarding some of the most impactful works of art, literature and other cultural entertainment
A Cold Night In Louisiana
Somewhere in Louisiana. The Best Western. It’s late. The temperatures are freezing. I cannot feel my extremities. I am pretty sure the rock rolling around inside my shoe is my toe.
Honor in Texas Hill Country
The poster is faded and aged, containing many three-by-five photos, housed in clear plastic sleeves, all in rows, on display for the world to see. The poster calls itself the “Wall of Honor,” even though you’d have to go out of your way to actually notice the poster. Let alone honor it.
Austin The Beautiful
The sun is shining in Austin, Texas. The hotel dining room is full of young people for breakfast. They are all tourists. I can tell this because they are wearing T-shirts that say things like: “Austin is Special.”
The Black history not told; Black History Month usually ignores capitalists and Republicans
February is Black History Month, which liberals bend toward messages of unceasing oppression while shunning the many black historical figures who improved the nation and proved the American dream works for everyone.