The Blog: Voices from the road

Carols by Candle light The year was 1989 and it was a cold December night in Winston Salem. The downtown city lights illuminated the black-backdrop of another star filled southern sky. I was a freshman in college and though it was a long time ago, I can still touch those

It was a simpler time. It was a time that offered a connection that was more real – like the apple pies your mother used to make… somehow they were just ‘better’ than what we have today. I love the past and I love giving it the the respect it

As the tide of years ebbs and flows I find myself in a place of what I consider significant change. During a layoff and difficult marriage decisions, I lost my home years ago. I don’t consider myself a victim, it’s just a fact… one of the things that occurred in

In my humble opinion we are inundated with ‘professionals’ that are missing the point in the media everyday and for some reason, we follow their track. The stories and approach our media uses divides us, and it is very much like fighting or arguing over the scraps from the table

As I get older, I’m am able to more clearly comprehend, deep down in my bones why we all look back at childhood and get a ‘magical’ sense about it. Though some parts of childhood were rough, I think that in spite of the difficulties, there is a ‘magical essence’

I really think our worst enemy, outside of what we would consider a full scale war or someone or something that wants our destruction, is ourselves. I was thinking, as the overwhelming sadness of my own ‘regrets and fears’ flow in and out of my life, how so many things,

As I child, the Kennon family ALWAYS had a yearly beach trip…whether it was tent camping, trailer camping, or as we’ve gotten older, condo or house rental. This year sadly the family didn’t go as a group. However, Cayden and I took a few days for ourselves and gratefully Elizabeth

I like dreaming. I always did. I think as children we have a propensity to dream more than we do when we are adults, but clearly the capacity for this is still apparent even as we age. I don’t know where the human capacity for dreaming comes from, but I

I think often of the paths we walk, the history we have already ‘left’ behind and the history, God willing, we are going to make. I am a native North Carolinian. I was born in Greensboro, move to Raleigh when I was 12, went to college for 6 years in

When I was a child I dreamed of flying. The idea followed me deep into my sleep, occupied me during my days and was as close to an addiction or possession an 8 year old could have. I have flown more wooden desk chairs, with “Sally Loves David’ carved into