Category Archives: Writing

My nine-year-old son likes Tim Tebow. He’s reading his autobiography and I’m pleased to say, he’s gotten some good out of Tebow’s example. So telling him that Peyton Manning was most likely going to take Tebow’s job wasn’t the easiest … Continue reading →

It was a little after 6 a.m. and I was driving along Pascagoula Street on my way to I-55.  In my rearview mirror was the skyline of Jackson. To my right, a cyprus swamp along the Pearl River.  I normally … Continue reading →

It was a warm spring evening on the small college campus. The 19-year-old RA (Resident Assistant) sat at the front desk of the boys’ dorm, desperately trying to stay awake. He had the night shift this weekend. That meant he had … Continue reading →

The late March Mississippi humidity was as thick as the sugar in his sweet tea.  Pollen swirled around in dust devil on the sidewalk, signaling a change of seasons. Conn Hurley was a million miles away from Dublin, Ireland.  But … Continue reading →

The stale air hung low like fog clinging to the city’s harbor.  The nicotine had stained the bar’s wallpaper, which had released from its glue in several places.  Neon beer signs gave the dark room an eerie glow. Bright light … Continue reading →

I walked a path I’ve walked over 500 times:  From my desk, I head down the back stairs to the back door to the corner of West and Pearl Street. From there, I walk past the Electric Building, The Federal … Continue reading →

The taste of fame had a bitter aftertaste.  At age 19, his band had signed a record contract and had a minor hit.  An unfortunate car wreck, drugs and poor choices led to the band’s breakup one year later.  He … Continue reading →

A small Japanese sedan sped down a rural Mississippi highway. A sleepy driver looked down for a split second to change the channel on his radio. It’s funny how a split second can change your life. The car radio had … Continue reading →

The Gulf of Mexico had opened its floodgates.  Warm, moist air was blanketing the little town like warm, wet blanket.  Even the clouds moved quickly, like they sensed trouble was coming.  You could smell New Orleans — and the town … Continue reading →