Tag: essay
My kids’ suburban Atlanta childhood is light-years away from mine
My childhood at age seven was nothing like my daughter’s now. My world was defined by fire and brimstone belching from the pulpit at Spring River Assembly of God. I didn’t know a Black person, and I sure as hell didn’t know what a lesbian was—much less consider a happy couple as part of my family.
Why I’m enraptured with Atlanta’s raptors
After 15 years of living beneath Atlanta’s storied tree canopy, the city’s birds of prey still get me every single time. It’s a feeling that goes a bit deeper than sheer novelty, or even fondness. Seeing an owl silently swooping past street lights and power lines, or spotting a hawk circling above the highway, feels extraordinary, almost fake—a welcome visual record scratch ripping across the mundanity of cityscape.
A father and daughter consider the past—and the future—on a road trip through the Mississippi Delta
Drive north on Money Road out of Greenwood, Mississippi, and the town gives way in a hurry to cotton and corn, an occasional house set back from the road.
My house is not my home. It’s built on my home.
After a year of being stuck at home, I finally realized where home really is.
Minor Braves to Major miracles: The magic of following Minor League Baseball
This current crop of Atlanta Braves is very special to my family because we’ve enjoyed them long before they were famous, long before most diehard baseball fans had even heard of them. Ozzie Albies, Austin Riley, Adam Duvall, Freddie Freeman, Max Fried, Charlie Morton—before they were household names, they were Gwinnett Braves or Stripers.
On fall fairs and longing in southeastern Louisiana
When I was a kid, one of the few salves for the end of the summer and the beginning of another long school year was the St. Tammany Parish Fair in Covington, Louisiana. There was always that sense of anticipation and excitement as the weather cooled and eased into fall, the days growing shorter, a feeling that things were changing.
This little droid is designed to haul cargo without a car. But Atlanta’s broken sidewalks prove a challenge.
On a quiet Saturday morning in May, I went for a lovely walk through my neighborhood with my family: my husband, my infant son, and a $3,250 robot named Gita.
We used our backyard wood-fired brick oven to feed friends and help our community
When my wife, Jo, a pastry chef and professional baker, said she wanted to build a wood-fired brick oven in our backyard to start baking bread and pizzas, I couldn’t see the appeal. There’d be ditch-digging involved, expenses of cement and brick, not to mention all the logs needed for fuel. I went along with the plan anyway.
Firefighters cook dinner for each other every night—but as a rookie in an Atlanta firehouse, I saw the limits of that intimacy
For generations, firefighters have cooked for one another nightly, building camaraderie over shared meals. But I also saw the limits of the connections forged over the firehouse table.
Years ago, I adopted Atlanta Hawks fandom. You should too.
Notes from a nonnative Atlantan—and longtime diehard Hawks fan—now that everyone is once again paying attention to our basketball team
