There's a crack down the middle of my kitchen table. You can't see it anymore. The table is a hundred and fifteen years old and it had a family before it had us.
The Table
Second Place
A stranger stopped me ten seconds after I walked off the stage with a second place trophy and offered to tell me what I'd done wrong. He may have been right. I'll never know.
Her Chopsaw
My wife had a chopsaw and knew how to use it. I didn't. Twenty-some years later I build most of what needs building around here, and I still can't name one thing I've taught her back.
Ninety-Three Degrees
Ninety-three degrees in downtown Oklahoma City, and a question from Sunday's sermon I haven't been able to put down: is your preparation at the level of your expectation?
Fifty Pounds
There's a photograph of me from Christmas 2004. I'm twenty-six, grinning at the camera, holding a fifty-pound punching bag my wife had just given me. Two weeks before that picture I'd had surgery to remove a tumor. The doctor's instruction was that I was not to lift anything over ten pounds. I don't remember deciding … Continue reading Fifty Pounds
