oh the places Category

Listening: B-52s sing Roam If You Want To

Our 50 Government Labs

In: oh the places, right now

I started reading this article, California v Texas: America’s future | The Economist, because the title caught my eye. We have plenty of CA v. TX in our house.  SpawnMama was born in Houston and has plenty of family in Austin.  We both love the time we’ve spent in Texas. I even like the sense of [...]

There is only one way this movie can ever be compared to American Graffiti. I probably would have liked it better if I’d been older. The soundtrack didn’t play as big a part as you might think it would. I kept wondering which of the girls The Spawn is going to grow up to be. [...]

On the advice of a friend, I jumped in a cab this morning and asked the driver to take me to a breakfast place in Tribeca. He kept asking where exactly and I just said anywhere was fine. Just a place I could get breakfast. I ended up at Pastis and had a delightful morning [...]

Touring the campus was only one of the reasons we went to Tuscaloosa. The real reason was the ribs. The original Dreamland is an area known as Jeursuleum Heights. Frankly, the road up would have scared me a bit had I not been with natives. We tucked into three slabs of ribs, a loaf and [...]

Yellow ribbons

In: and we're off, oh the places, right now

When we first got here — and then Tuesday at the University of Alabama — I kept thinking that they must have lost someone in Iraq. And I remembered Natalie Holloway. SouthernGirl’s mother lives in Mountain Brook — and SouthernGirl went to Mountain Brook High — which is the same community Natalie Holloway lived in [...]

They are all over. Stone tablets, signs on lawns, signs on houses. The University of Alabama was covered with them. Most of those had to do with football or the Civic War. Tuscaloosa was raided on April 3, 1865 and the University of Alabama campus was burned the next day. There are no shortage of [...]

Driving around Birmingham with the idea of taking pictures. I heard thunder while we were standing on top of Vulcan and I couldn’t get down fast enough. I don’t care if the lightening was in Mississippi, I said. I don’t want to be standing up there. Driving and looking. Stopping for peanuts. Southern Girls’ brother [...]

Which is how you know that you are in the South. And you know you are with a Southerner if, when there is no prepared sweet tea, they order a Coke. Atlanta, I’ve been told, is Northified. The last time, the only previous time, I was in South, it was a cold December. Cold enough [...]

Why?

"He stopped commenting on this oddness of hers. She said the news clippings she sent to friends were a perfectly reasonable way to correspond. There were a thousand things to clip and they all said something about the way she felt. He watched her read and cut. She wore half-glasses and worked the scissors grimly. She believed these were personal forms of expression. She believed no message she could send a friend was more intimate and telling than a story in the paper about a violent act, a crazed man, a bombed Negro home, a Buddhist monk who sets himself on fire. Because these are the things that tell us how we live." -Don Dellilo, Libra

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