Families Without Songs Are Unhappy

Walking The Streets Of Charleston In The Late Afternoons Of August Was Like Walking Through Gauze Or Inhaling Damaged Silk.

To Describe Our Growing Up In The Lowcountry Of South Carolina, I Would Have To Take You To The Marsh On A Spring Day, Flush The Great Blue Heron From Its Silent Occupation, Scatter Marsh Hens As We Sink To Our Knees In Mud, Open An Oyster With A Pocketknife And Feed It To You From The Shell And Say, 'there. That Taste. That's The Taste Of My Childhood.'

Basketball Allowed Me To Revere My Father Without Him Knowing What I Was Up To. I Took Up Basketball As A Form Of Homage And Mimicry.

Baseball Fans Love Numbers. They Love To Swirl Them Around Their Mouths Like Bordeaux Wine.

(you) Don't Leave The Chicken To Watch The Feed.