My Christmas

I had a Wonderful Christmas.

I saw all my family and caught up and made some memories. I may be 25, but I still believe in Santa Clause and me and my little niece – who is only about 13 months old – got all caught up in the blissfulness that Christmas brings.

Be a kid. Be joyful.

I got all I asked for and I’ve always gotten all a boy could ever want. My birthday wish, however, has still not come true. I do not anticipate that it will, but I wish for it still out of that purely optimistic part of my heart. One shouldn’t expect to get all one wants. But what’s the harm in wishing for something unrealistic every now and again?

Probably the best Christmas gift was not at all a surprise, but nothing could have prepared me for it. I brought back a painting from Paris this summer. When I was there the second time around, at the end of my journey before I was to fly out of Charles de Gaulle Airport, I started getting tremendously sentimental and I bought all kinds of souvenirs.

I bought my niece a pink stuffed Eiffel Tower. How could I resist?

So yea – I picked out a painting of the city during sunset. Looking out over the Seine, the Eiffel Tower prominently watching over its city, the sun casting this uniquely beautiful glow over the buildings. It’s a great scene and I’ve been dying to get it matted and framed.

I have other art projects from Europe that need framing, but they will have to wait.

So for now, I have this picture frozen in time. Anywhere I go, anywhere I move to, this thing will come with me and it will remind me of that unforgettable journey. I have so many things like that – things that take me back in an instant to a beautiful memory from my life.

I am a rich man, to be certain.

However, yesterday we encountered a road bump. My family’s cat, Oreo, had to be put to sleep. He was very old and had experienced no health problems until now. His bladder stopped working and when pressed, blood would come out of it.

I cried when my dad and I went to the vet to see Oreo one last time. I had no idea how much I’d grown to love him. My dad cried twice as hard as I did and I think I realized at that moment just how alike he and I are.

I wear my heart on my sleeve and I get that directly from him. We both can be emotional and we cherish some of the most simple things in life.

Some sons hate the idea of being like their dad. It’s a curse and if anyone ever says something about it, they fly off the handle.

For me, being like my dad would be a great compliment.

I had a Wonderful Christmas – I hope you did, too.

I have posts written out. Perhaps they need editing, but they are written.

There are things that I want to talk about and tell you about and discuss. But they will have to wait for a little while.

It’s Christmas and I’m going to enjoy it. I’m going to spend time with people in my life that I love. All of you guys are wonderful and my life is richer for knowing each and every one of you. But let’s all slow down for a while and enjoy the people in our lives. Enjoy this time of year and all the special moments that it brings.

I am going to be with my mom and dad and my sisters and my precious little niece. I’m going to spend time with my Mamaw – whose health has been declining of late. And Grandaddy and Grandmamma. I want to savor every moment as if I’m not guaranteed to have anything like it again. Because I may not.

This is a special time of year. I love to anticipate its approach and I hate to see it pass. I take pleasure in putting up Christmas lights and trees and decorations. I listen to Christmas songs at home, at work, and in the car. I immerse myself in it and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Step back and enjoy it all.


To Everyone:

Merry Christmas.

May God Bless You and All That You Love.

On Monday, around 11 p.m., this Unknown Man will have been on this Earth for 25 years.

Some days, I feel like I've lived the richest and fullest 25 years of anybody who ever existed.

Other days, I feel quite the opposite.

Here's to hoping that on this day, I feel the former.

A Little Town

It’s Christmas time.

The air is fresh and it’s brisk. You are not suffocated by the heat or heaviness of summer. Instead, the cold invigorates your skin and fills your lungs with refreshing purity.

Every year, my family comes together and we visit this very small town about an hour away from home. This weekend, we continued that tradition and it was a truly great weekend. At Christmas, this town lines its streets with luminaries and all the little shops put up lights and make cider and cookies for their visitors. It’s almost something out of a storybook.

Christmas music emanates from a variety of sources and can be heard while you walk the streets of this place. The town is home to a very old restaurant and lodging establishment. This is where we eat dinner when we visit. Food is prepared and served in very large portions – family-style. You order one of five or six meals and get unlimited amounts of not only that, but also potatoes, cole slaw, and the best damn biscuits you’ve ever put in your mouth. This year, I chose Chicken and Dumplins.

It’s a classic and wonderful scene. And with all the little kids that are now present in my three sisters’ families, well – it’s always full of life.


There is something very romantic and mysterious about winter. Girls aren’t strutting around in short skirts and tight shirts that are showing more cleavage and more stomach. And guys aren’t gawking at them. Not that I don’t appreciate a hot woman dressed in flattering clothing – don’t get me wrong. But there’s something very special about a woman who looks amazing when she’s bundled up against the cold.

Her true beauty shines thru and some things are left to the imagination. It’s better that way, if you ask me. Maybe her whole body is completely covered, and therefore her hands become the center of attention and you notice how small they are.

Or perhaps she’s pulled a hood over her head, in an effort to protect her ears and neck from winter’s chill. Her eyes shine a little brighter than usual and you suddenly realize that they are the most amazing thing about her.

It’s funny how things are brought to light. By darkness. By cold. By affliction.

I love Christmas.

Movie Trivia

Below is a quote from one of my favorite movies. It's one that I often forget about, but literally every time I come across it on T.V. - I can't pass it by.

It is a wonderful tale of a luminous man following his dreams despite the most crippling of setbacks. Full of imagery. My dad introduced me to this film and I will surely introduce it my son - whenever he comes along.

Let's see who can guess the title...


“Ya know...my mother told me I outta be a farmer.”

“My dad wanted me to be a baseball player.”

“Well, you’re the best one I ever had.
And you’re the best damn hitter I ever saw.

Suit up.”

On the Road Again

Sevilla Cathedral at Night
Originally uploaded by uncsuperman.

A lot has happened over the last month. I have been preoccupied and distracted and maybe even a little lost. The last post about my journey this summer had me meeting Amanda in Malaga, Spain. Let's pick back up...


48 hours passed and I was leaving Malaga before I even knew I had arrived. My time with Amanda passed quickly but it was reassuring – what we had experienced in Valencia and Granada was not a fluke. It was real.

I missed her immediately but picked myself up by the bootstraps and jumped on a bus to Sevilla. Traveling between cities was, oddly enough, one of the best parts of my trip. I think it was the transition of it all. Sailing smoothly from one place to the next – physically, emotionally, spiritually. It gave each new place a context – a meaning.

Granada was more than a beautiful city. It was where Amanda and I were together. It was where my heart refused to be silenced. Cinque Terre was not simply the most amazing natural landscape I’d ever seen. It was my purification.

And so Sevilla was next. Abby had studied there for a semester. She sent me postcards and emails making claims of its beauty and splendor.

You don’t know who Abby is and you won’t find out, because she’s another long story to be told on a very lonely day. She got married this past summer while I was in Europe. Perhaps while I was visiting her city. It seems as if they’re all getting married.

Every time a destination was reached, an excitement rose inside of me. Excitement for something undiscovered. It must have been something of a glimpse of what Columbus or Ponce de Leon felt as they uncovered The New World. Or perhaps Lewis and Clark.

On a smaller scale, certainly. But isn’t it similar? All these places were new to me. They had yet to be discovered and searched and explored. Maybe others had already seen them. But I had not.

It was a feeling of being alive. Of truly living.

By now I was becoming quite adept at finding my way around these places. Maps were second nature and I’d grown unconcerned about whether people were around while I checked my maps. I’m a tourist – I am not ashamed.

Despite my failure to routinely do this, calling ahead to secure a place to stay was a really great idea. Thankfully, I had made this call back in Malaga and knew where I was going once in Sevilla. The hostel was run by an old but kind lady that spoke just slightly broken English. I found that places like this – hostels that weren’t big and commercial, but rather, small and locally run – gave much more of a true flavor for the place. They intensified the experience and I preferred it that way.

The weather gods had blessed me so far and continued to oblige. While America was battling her worst hurricane season in recent history, I was a million miles away under some of the bluest skies I’d ever seen. Sure, it was hot. But I’d rather sweat a little than be holed up inside while the rain and wind whip around outside.

As was my custom, I dumped my stuff in the room, took a breather and then headed out into the unknown. It was Sunday and the cathedral was open with free admission. I love free.

It is only the largest Gothic edifice ever constructed and the third largest cathedral in the world. Pause for a second and think about that, will you? Save for St. Peter’s in Rome and St. Paul’s in London – this cathedral is the largest in all the world. It took more than a century to build.

I love being awe-struck. When you’re awe-struck, you know you’re witnessing the pinnacle of something.

An astonishing athletic performance – Jordan’s 38 points in Game 5 of the 1997 NBA playoffs, including the 3-pointer that won the game. The night when, 5 minutes before the game, he was still lying in a dark room with a bucket nearby to handle his puking from food poisoning. The whole game, he looked as if he were on the verge of fainting.

Physical beauty – The most perfect smile you’ve ever seen in your entire life. So perfect, that the beauty of Cinque Terre pales in comparison. The way a girl’s ears fade into her neck. And her neck into her shoulders.

A feat of man – A structure so immense and intricate that you can’t help but wonder how a modern builder would go about creating this thing, much less a group of men in the year 1401.

Awe-inspiring. Beauty.

I love it.

Living to the Hilt

Steven made a comment the other day in response to a post of mine. He said we should "live life to the hilt - a great swordfighting metaphor, but living to the hilt means getting seriously stabbed now and then."

Immediately a passage from a book came to mind. Again, I reference "Wild at Heart" by John Eldredge. Eldredge does such a masterful job at drawing from others' commentary about whatever subject he's dealing with.

We're entering the story towards the end - one of the last chapters. Eldredge is speaking about how to fight; what happens when a man resolves to become a warrior. And he draws from another author's insights -

"The most dangerous man on earth is the man who has reckoned with his own death. All men die; few men ever really live. Sure, you can create a safe life for yourself...and end your days in a rest home babbling on about some forgotten misfortune. I'd rather go down swinging. Besides, the less we are trying to 'save ourselves,' the more effective a warrior we can be. Listen to G.K. Chesterton on courage:

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die. "He that will lose his life, the same shall save it," is not a piece of mysticism for saints and heroes. It is a piece of everyday advice for sailors or mountaineers. It might be printed in an Alpine guide or a drill book. The paradox is the whole principle of courage; even of quite earthly or quite brutal courage. A man cut off by the sea may save his life if he will risk it on the precipice. He can only get away from death by continually stepping within an inch of it. A soldier surrounded by enemies, if he is to cut his way out, needs to combine a strong desire for living with a strange carelessness about dying. He must not merely cling to live, for then he will be a coward, and will not escape. He must not merely wait for death, for then he will be a suicide, and will not escape. He must seek his life in a spirit of furious indifference to it; he must desire life like water yet drink death like wine."


Nothing needs to be added to that. Nothing.

I wish to God that I could make everyone happy. There are many, many people in my life who I care about dearly and I wish I could make all their pains and fears vanish into the wind. I wish I could carry their burdens for them and ease the weight on their shoulders.

I have tried in earnest.

It is not possible. And although it is not possible – I will likely continue to try for all the days of my life. Maybe it’s not necessary. Maybe that’s not the way to live one’s life. But this is how I am built.

I’m an optimist. I’m a romantic. I’m a dreamer. I wear my heart unabashedly on my sleeve.

And today, I have been beaten. I’m worn and broken and spent. It feels like I’m being taken out by snipers.

But Tomorrow – tomorrow the sun will rise and a new day will come upon us.