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Army

Leftovers

Trying something different today. Here are three small pieces I tried and failed to flesh out into something bigger but liked too much just to leave in a drafts folder.

A middle aged bald white man naps on a brown leather couch. On his chest a new born is napping. On his legs a dachshund is also napping.

essay

A Purpose

I was staring at that stack of journals, knowing I needed to write something for the first of the year and wondering if I could find some inspiration in Memaw’s words.

memoir

"He Who Doesn't Believe...

...doesn't receive."

essay

A Black Dog at Night

He makes a circuit counter clockwise around the perimeter of the yard, checking the tree where he saw a squirrel, the rock wall where he heard a chipmunk, and under the shed where he knows the rabbits live.

A soldier in green uniform kneels to hug a small child.

memoir

Fathers, Sons, Soldiers, and Poetry

We both hid a part of ourselves behind a soldier’s body armor and camo paint and when that didn’t work we retreated behind the smile of a beer drinking buddy.

A man sits in the fall woods with a shotgun propped on the knee of his camo pants.

memoir

The Squirrel Hunters

It’s a song about a man facing heartbreak who retreats to the winter woods. It’s a song about healing heartbreak on a cold morning with a Browning Auto 5. It took me back to Bienville Parish. It took me back to the first weekend in October. It sounded like my father’s voice.

commentary

Thoughts and Prayers and Thank You For Your Service

...I pity them. I feel genuinely sorry for all of them with their yellow ribbon stickers and “would’ve served but” because I experienced something else during those dark days, something they will never experience for themselves.

An American flag dangles from a pinetree that has fallen into the roof of a brown and tan ranch style home.

commentary

July 4, 2025

When faced with unimaginable horrors some people will run, more will freeze, but a surprising number will fight. A shocking number of people will run to aid their fellow man. I’ve seen it

memoir

15 Miles in the Dark

It was on those long drives that I talked myself into asking out a girl for the first, second, and third times and where I dealt with the crushing defeat of rejection and the low grade, lingering pain of being “just friends.”

A 22" red drum sits on a whie measuring board in the lap of a kayak fisherman

memoir

Bayous and Backyards (Crescent City Chapter 4)

Fishing buddies give no quarter and accept none. He ragged me endlessly. I was beginning to think he’d legitimately cursed me. I seriously considered seeing if I could find a gris gris to lift the curse.

A bearded white man in white shirt and jeans laying on a couch covered with a blue blanket drinking a Coors Light long neck.

memoir

The Apartment (Crescent City Chapter 3)

I never paid a dime in cash but came with offerings of Zapps potato chips, Coca-cola, and boxes of chocolate glazed when the Krispy Kreme "hot" light was lit. In return I got a spare key, a shitty fold out mattress and raucous company.

A can of Shiner Prickly Pear beer sitting on a battered picnic table on a beach overlooking the gulf of Mexico

commentary

Obituary Beer

Right now I have Dos Equis in the fridge. An imported Mexican lager is fitting I guess. Dos Equis is by no means a “special” beer but it's crisp and cold and there, which makes it about as good as a beer gets.