It’s not hard to see in these pictures how quickly time passes. How quickly our boy has grown.

But there is also something else, which I will tell him.

A look back at one of our pandemic successes and our relationship with Guy Fieri. 

On that big day, when we took our first-born child to college, no moment moved me to write. No memories of our baby girl moved me to tears. Because I must have known we’d get to this point.

During another break, with only the gentle hum of the interstate as our soundtrack, and sincerity in her voice, she asks me this:

"Do you think I'll be famous?"

Our road through elementary school has been long. We’ve been here for twelve straight years, in fact, and it all comes to an end this week.

I am not ready for any of this, and it breaks my heart that our children are moving on from so many of the things and times that have brought them such joy.

And that night, by the viburnum at the end of our driveway, we laid a beautiful little bird to rest.

They will share their inside jokes of things that happened in a Cooperstown barracks or a car ride back from Kenansville. They'll likely still call each other by the nicknames they've given each other. 

But this team, this time, and their growing up South Park, have ended. 

There’s a daycare in my building. I can see their playground from my office.

I want to scream to the children playing thirteen stories below: Run! Hop into a Cozy Coupe and escape! Don’t ever grow up!  

My reflections on an amazing week in Cooperstown.

Our boys will always have the memory of this amazing team. They will forever remember how their siblings and family members cheered and hugged them after every game. They will tell the stories of this week to children of their own one day.

Just as it does for the sea turtles, Bald Head claims us, and it claims us so completely that no matter where our lives may take us, and no matter the many miles we surely will roam, we will always hear its call to return.

A love letter to our favorite island, where time moves so slowly.

Our youngest child, you must know that when I hold you, for what may seem too long to you or your siblings, that I am holding all of you.

(as featured in The Huffington Post)

I almost became a beautician.

This is a true story. Come for the Space Camp picture. Stay for the punchline.

The authoritative history of Street Golf, a tradition unlike any other.

Born from humble beginnings more than twenty years ago.

Whenever I see this picture, Facebook, I smile. Our youngest brings so much joy to us, and here he is doing it again. But I also remember what happened next

(As featured in The Huffington Post)

What it’s like to be the public address announcer at Cameron Indoor Stadium on the night of the biggest game of the year: Carolina versus Duke.

Oh, and that announcer? He’s also my older brother.

At my father’s funeral, I spoke of Dad's great love for the coast. It was more than just love, I said. It was a part of who he was. I told those in attendance that day that Dad's ashes would find as their final resting place a spot somewhere along North Carolina's Crystal Coast.

Nearly two years later, we made good on that promise.

This is one of the last pictures I have of my father. And I found it online, thanks to Google Street View.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, I was dining at the Capital Grille in Manhattan. Tonight, I am serving as an overnight host at our church, welcoming twelve of our homeless neighbors.

I am moved by the juxtaposition of it all.

No more does she cry in the night and need me to hold her closely, rocking her gently while walking back and forth across this floor. Gone are the days and nights when she needed me for everything.