What the Pandemic has really taken away…

Travel. It’s what I miss the most. These days, I find myself reading about something or another, thinking about how great it would be to check out some place or thing with Ashley and my boys, doing a quick feasibility process in my head, and then realizing the sad truth we aren’t going anywhere until the pandemic is lifted. It’s downright soul crushing.

My wants are becoming overwhelming. There are restaurants I want to try and cities I want to visit. I want to talk with people from other cultures. I have places I want to go- places like Dublin and Australia. I want to see the green grass at Wimbledon. I want to hear the roar of the crowd at a rock and roll show at Red Rocks. I want to take my boys to college football games all over this country before they are too old to spend with their dad. I want to get on a cruise ship with Ashley for the Alaskan cruise of her dreams. I want to eat and drink my way through the low country of Charleston, South Carolina. The list just goes on and on…

I am a born and bred Mississippian. I have never run from the place I call home. Yet I’ve always known the world is larger than the dirt in front of me. I appreciate the reinforcement of community and family that only a quarantine can bring. But real life is the experience of living. Are we creating an entire generation that will not understand what it means to be a citizen of the world? When the curtain is finally lifted, what will remain?

I guess maybe President Trump got his gosh damn wall after all— he couldn’t have imagined how tall the walls would be. More and more activities are being postponed, but life is not afforded the same pause button. Time knows only one direction— forward.

Life on the Road Isn’t Always What It’s Supposed To Be

The summer after my first year of law school, our local radio station convinced me to go to Enterprise, Alabama to broadcast the 15 year old Dixie Majors World Series.  Ok, “convince” is probably a strong word.  Honestly, I didn’t have anything better to do with my life that week, and the Vice President of the station aka my older brother Kevin knew a)  I liked baseball and b) I liked hearing my own voice even more.  In my mind, if a 22 year old Joe Buck could call the St. Louis Cardinals thanks to his family connection, then a family connection could let a 22 year old John Cox call the Dixie Majors World Series. Continue reading “Life on the Road Isn’t Always What It’s Supposed To Be”