Five Years Ago in Huntsville
Five years ago I was in Huntsville when the world shut down. Five years. Almost to the day. I’ll never forget it.
Americana
The Hunt for Ink and Paper
It was a small town. Somewhere in the Southeast. Big shopping complex, off the interstate. Best Buy, Red Lobster, Ulta, Olive Garden, Outback Steakhouse, Target, and all other franchises that transform American towns into carbon copies, from Oil Slick to Shining Oil Slick.
My Phone is Smarter Than I Is
I remember my first cellphone. I felt like one bad hombre.
I was in my mid-20s. The cellphone retail salesperson outfitted me with a state-of-the-age phone about the size of a residential General Electric refrigerator.
Shots Fired: The Origins of American Military Marksmanship
This is a 3 Part Series: A Nation of Riflemen: The Legacy of Marksmanship in the U.S. Military from the Civil War to Today. Part I: Shots Fired: The Origins of American Military Marksmanship
Morgan the Magnificent
The young woman sits in my truck passenger seat. She is 19. Her hair is red. Scottish red. Luminously red. People always comment on her hair first.
Have Shoes, Will Travel
I have been doing a lot of walking. More walking than I’ve ever done in my life. More walking than I thought possible.
A Walk in Birmingham, Alabama
I awoke early and went for a walk with my dog. The sun wasn’t up, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness of Birmingham.
Help, My Family is Stressing Me Out
I have here a letter from 19-year-old Erin, who lives in Bristol, Virginia.
“Dear Sean,” she begins, “I want to be happy, but I’m not…
“My family is stressing me out, big-time. Especially my mom.
A Familiar Accent in an Unfamiliar Place
People from small towns almost never tell you the name of their town first. They always start with the nearest big city and work their way inward.
Playing Cards with Little Sister
My sister and I sit cross-legged on the front porch, playing cards. I am losing. Not that this matters.
We are really into the game right now, slapping cards on the porch floor.
The Elephant and the Ants
Once upon a time there were three little ants. The ants had an unusual home. They lived atop an elephant. Long ago the ants’ mother had reasoned that an elephant would be a wise place to lay eggs to keep them from danger.
The Storm Saturday Night
It was a big storm. The television showed weather updates. The radar looked like red-and-yellow vomit.
“Find shelter!” the weather guy kept saying. “There’s a tornado on the ground in Calera!”
Whatever Happened to…?
Idiots complain. And I’m not a complete idiot. Idiocy is all about percentages. I’m only 40 percent idiot, the other 75 percent of me is bad at math.
Ye Olde Flip Phone
This is my fourth week with a flip phone. My “unintelligent” cellular phone is manufactured by Nokia, and the phone’s primary selling feature is that it sucks.
George Washington and the Ides of March
Thirteen upstart colonies had declared themselves states, and united in a loose federation to fight for independence from the greatest military power on earth. And they handed over the reins to George Washington, to make it happen.
One Afternoon at Winn Dixie
The kid was filling a shopping buggy. He was reaching for a bag of tortilla chips on the top shelf. I saw one of the older ladies in our aisle reach upward and remove a bag of Tostitos for him.
Oh My Dog
“Dear Sean,” the letter began, “there’s a dog in my neighborhood who was lost and followed me home.
I Would Walk 500 Miles
In a few weeks my wife and I will be walking 500 miles unless we die before we finish. We will be walking the Camino de Santiago, a medieval religious pathway across Spain. We will be on foot. With backpacks. And we shall not be called “hikers,” but in the ancient Spanish tongue: “Locos Americanos con mochilas.”
Letter From a Humble American
Husbands and sons. Carpenters and clergymen. Some rich, some poor. Some carrying the nicest firelocks money could buy. Some wielding nothing more than a pitchfork. I was playing my fife for them.
A Man Named Paul
Paul William Bryant was born in the late summer of 1913 in a Cleveland County, Arkansas, backwater. His hometown of Moro Bottom wasn’t even a town, technically. Only seven families lived there.