Posts tagged loss
Stay 731: Worth the Fight

I moved to Jackson a starry-eyed eighteen-year-old ready for the “real world.” I came to Union University to play volleyball and study my way to becoming a chemical engineer who would change the world with brains and athleticism. Three months into my first semester, I had quit volleyball and was failing at my chemistry courses. A few days into my second semester, a tornado blew away all my belongings, including those starry eyes.

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Winds of Change

The Wizard of Oz. That’s my earliest memory of the power of a tornado. From the time I saw that witch riding a bicycle in the air with that house spinning out of control, the power of a tornado had me under its thumb. As a five-year-old, I had no idea how close I would come to that dominance that struck so much fear in me as a child. West Tennessee, and Jackson in particular, is no stranger to tornadoes. As much as we think tornadoes are an indiscriminate act of nature, they’re not. 

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Better Off: An Exploration of Sensitivity or Bo Kitzman’s Most Recent Musical Quest

Have you been through a breakup recently? Have you ever been let down? Have you ever wanted to let someone know how you really felt but weren’t sure if you could say it to their face? Or if they even deserved that luxury? Well, then I’ve got the music for you. Bo Kitzman got his heart broken, and he’s not afraid to tell you about it. I got a chance to sit down with him recently and pick his brain about his own feelings. He also asked me to share a few of my thoughts on his songs.

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Stay 731: Seasons

There is nothing beautiful about a neighborhood razed and left for kudzu and vines to swallow trees whole, while grass begins forming veins in the cracks of the abandoned streets. There is nothing beautiful about a lot tended only enough to keep back tall grasses. So when I say I love the patch of abandoned land called Westwood Gardens, I get that it’s kind of weird.

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Setting the Table

Imagine a table. There are many faces, both black and white, seated around that table. Everyone present wants their stories to be heard and their hardships to be acknowledged. Rightfully so. Sometimes I have the honor of sitting at that table. I sit beside my husband Charles and my best friend Melanie. Naturally, I gravitate toward their voices in conversations on racial reconciliation in our city.

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