Punchy Protagonist

A few years ago, I bought a bracelet at a clothing store I frequent. It's a simple silver bracelet that reads "hope."  I bought it because part of the proceeds went to the American Cancer Society, and a good family friend was still a fresh survivor of breast cancer. I found the bracelet a few days ago in the bottom of a drawer, and I wear it now for that same friend. That beautiful, funny, sweet lady has a battle once again, but this one came with a vengeance.  The cancer is in multiple places, and it is inoperable. In her true form, she is letting no one see her sweat.  She is fighting to keep her spirits up and stay her spunky self through the whole battle.   The doctor didn't give a specific time (but we are hoping it's a lot), but maybe that's not a bad thing, because she is spending whatever time that may be doing what she wants and what she loves, as she should. As we all should, really. Something I have taken away from Sally's experience is ther...

I have always been a country music fan.  Even when I was a baby, my mom said nothing made me happier to hear than a song with a fiddle in it. In my teenage years, I remained a country fan, but I went along with whatever was popular at the time. I went through music phases...Lynyrd Skynyrd, Johnny Cash...but I pretty well stuck to popular sounds. I think I started floating away from the norm when I watched the movie Walk the Line and realized what a repertoire Johnny Cash really had.  However, my real music epiphany started when I heard the smooth buzz-saw voice of Jamey Johnson. From the first time I heard one of his albums, I fell in love with his music. Some of his songs made me laugh, some made my heart hurt. Some made me want to be in a smokey bar somewhere with an old jukebox, but one thing remained constant. All of his songs made me feel SOMETHING. Sure, they were catchy, but the poetic lyrics and his deep old timey voice made me want to keep hearing more. No matt...

There is an epidemic that is growing in this country. Some strains are affecting more than others, and some people are not even aware they are infected.  It could infect just one person, or it could spread without any means of control. One thing is for certain, though. It's everywhere. Body shaming.  We are programmed to think that some measure of this is okay, and none of it is. It is not restricted to size or sex.  There are men and women all over this country looking at themselves in the mirror and making a mental list of things they want to change.  There are women whispering about what each other is wearing, and men saying "he could never get that girl" because she's "out of his league."  It needs to stop, and we are the ones to stop it. I do this myself, and until I started reading body positive articles, I honestly did not realize how guilty I was.  Sure, I knew that I wasn't always confident in my body.  But it can be somet...

Everyone has to wait on things; it's a part of life. Some of us have been graced with more patience than others, but waiting is still going to happen, whether we are tactful and twiddle our thumbs or we pace vigorously back and forth until we make ourselves dizzy. No one has gone without saying "I am waiting for...(this)" or "I am waiting on...(that)." Here in the American world, we use these terms interchangeably, and there is nothing wrong with that.  However, today I propose a difference, at least in my restless mind. Waiting for something implies that we are in anticipation for something to happen.  In my thinking, "waiting for" could imply something that is out of our control.  We wait for the professor to post our final grade, we wait to see if we got the cute little house on the corner, we wait for our food to cook.  These are things that are out of our control, or at least might be ruined if we sped them along.  "Waiting for" can b...

I recently went on a trip with my fabulous mother, the point of which was attending a festival in honor of her favorite playwright. Part of this was the showing of a movie based on one of his plays starring the great Paul Newman. The screen, of course, was huge and I watched Paul's extremely blue eyes flit with emotion, dramatic and vulnerable at times, all while remaining rugged and statuesque, with a jaw line that could cut a pizza and eyes that will maybe any woman a puddle on the floor...and have I mentioned that smile? I digress. My thoughts drifted to other roles I had seen Mr. Newman in, and it posed this question: Why don't they make men like Paul Newman anymore? I know he's an actor that plays parts, but like any good artist, there's a little of himself in all his characters, whether good or bad. He delivered his lines almost like a poet, and with such ease. He was not only handsome, but talented with an ere of sophistication and charm coupled with a bright...

My question for today: Who decided your 20's was the magic age where you had to have everything figured out? Get a degree. Get a job. Move out of your parents'. Find "the one." I'm sure this is written in some ancient book like "The Southern Gentleman and Lady's Guide to Living and Frying Food," but come on. As much as I love the South, as much as I could never see living anywhere else, I have this suspicion that this dynamic is more prevalent below the Mason-Dixon Line. Once you are out of college (or in my hometown's case sometimes, high school) you must go out and immediately find your purpose in life. This package deal, of course, will come with a shiny new car, your own wonderfully decorated apartment or house with no repairs needed, a college degree in something that will ensure you a job, and of course a God-fearing, church-going, never-cussing, trophy wife/husband (and, of course, all before you hit 30). This, however, is not the...