Is it racist that I think this looks a little racist?
Me and mom. So to speak.
I’ve had a number of reminders about my mom in the past week…and this Sunday being Mother’s Day, this seemed something natural to post. She has been on my mind a lot this week.
Mom died in 1994—19 years ago, come October. Due to reasons I don’t want to go into right now, I hadn’t visited her grave since 1995. I know…not cool. I’m sorry about that…which is why I went earlier today.
It was the first time I’d been there in nearly 20 years. The first time I have gone as an adult. The first time I’d ever been there ALONE. I spent about a half hour talking to her like she was there. It was nice. And sad. And nice again. We had some catching up to do…
I hope it doesn’t take another 18 years for me to get back out there.
Miss you, Mom. Happy Mother’s Day.
Left Hand Brewing Co.’s Milk Stout Nitro. Been hearing about this from several people for MONTHS so I finally picked some up. The bitter stout combines with the creamy milk to create a very smooth drink that is unmistakably a roasted stout, but also has something sweet—almost cocoa—in the aftertaste. I’m not sure if it’s in my top-five stouts yet…but maybe it should be. If you like a good stout, pick this up. It’s a GOOD stout.
Kurt Vile - ‘Wakin On A Pretty Day’
First time I clicked on this I thought, “Why is this nine minutes long??” Then about three minutes in I thought, “It’s such a pretty day outside. Man this is going to be a great Spring!”
That happens. Embrace it.
This is a letter I received from one of my favorite authors, Brennan Manning, in 2003. Brennan passed away on April 12 of this year. I took this letter out of its frame for the first time in 10 years tonight to take this photo and to just briefly touch the words he wrote just for me. My full tribute to Brennan is on my Wordpress blog…
The letter reads as follows:
Calgary, Alberta / 7 March 2003
Dear Derek,
Peace, my friend.
It’s 16-degrees below zero here today and will drop to 20 below tonight and I am so grateful to be here. While most 68-year-old men are retired, I have work to do that I love. Holy macaroni!
Your letter touched me in a deep way. As you wrote with such clarity and passion, those seven syllables [DB EDIT: Referring to the phrase “Abba, I belong to you” featured in his book “The Wisdom of Tenderness”] have astonishing power to affect the manner we relate to ourselves, to others, and the way we relate to God.
“Abba’s Child” is your core identity and most coherent sense of yourself. May the cry, “Abba, I belong to you” continue to rise often and easily from your heart.
As the psalmist says, “Let’s look up at the Lord with gladness and smile.”
So grateful for your letter, Derek.
Under the Mercy,
Brennan
A young Reid flair.
Reblogged in memoriam. Rest in peace to Reid Flair—dead at 25. I’m sure this takes a LOT of the stride out of the Nature Boy’s swagger. I find it so, so fitting that this footage was part of the culmination of a long period where Ric Flair was in Bischoff’s doghouse because he skipped an event to see Reid win one of those medals. I’m glad he took the day off for that. I hope we’ll see Ric style and profile again, but if not, I hope he finds peace. Can’t even imagine.
Rest in peace, Reid.