A letter to an American kid
I will never forget the day you were born. I will never forget the day you turned ten years old. They were both days that scared me until I could feel the fear in...
Essays from an american mutt
Daddy’s medicine
During the World Cup, ESPN Senior Writer Wright Thompson became enamored with a hot sauce he found in Central America. Inspired (or, perhaps a little sauced himself), he put out a call for short...
The email my son won’t get
Hey, buddy. We dropped you off at camp yesterday. We watched you sit on your bunk in a cabin you’d never seen before. We met your counselor. You mimicked his Australian accent and called...
The F5 Nobody: A terrible idea to stop spree killers
When I was young, I had a recurring dream that the man who lived down the street planned to kill me. In reality, the guy worked for City Utilities and drove a green work...
Mom’s pencil
One of my earliest memories—one’s that just gauzy enough to prove its age, but just clear enough to be truer than most—is a pencil in my mom’s hand. It’s jitting and jotting across a...
Dear Coach Pinkel
Updated below Tonight I sit here in South Carolina and look at my wife. She’s wearing a fleece with a tiger on the back. Today, I drove my car to the gym. It has...
To the courageous Senator Lindsey Graham
Dear Senator Lindsey Graham, I write today to applaud your courage. Only a man like yourself–one worried that he might have to face a run-off in a primary election–would have the bravery to introduce...
Mr. Andy
My younger son met Mr. Andy at our local grocery store. Mr. Andy bagged groceries for hours on every shift. Once the bags were in the cart, Mr. Andy would push them out to...
Wil Wheaton’s guest
I’m guest-blogging for Wil Wheaton this week. If you’d like to check in on what I wrote, you can find the stories here: WHEATON’S LAW REVISITED A FIELD FULL OF LIGHTNING
The monsters are real
I grew up on the west side of Springfield, Missouri. If you look on the left part of Springfield’s gridded streets you will find the map of my childhood. It’s where I rode my...
When Dad looked at the sky
There is a shiny headstone on the outskirts of Springfield, Missouri, and it’s where people who love my dad go when they want to be alone with him (someone clearly knows How to clean...
Carry me home
Jason Shelton, an American soldier, was on my plane to Greenville last night. I hadn’t slept in two days. I’d left my hotel 22 hours before. My back and neck were knotted up. I...
Ten things I have done that you (probably) haven’t
I’ll be honest. I’m about to go on a big trip, and I’m–for the first time in a very long time–a little nervous about it. It’s the good kind of nervous, but the anxiety...
Where there’s smoke…
This question, as all good questions do, begins with a cast iron skillet. My wife is-and this is putting it in a way only a loving and understanding husband can-security conscious. When I buried...