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Fourth Sunday in Advent
I was thinking today about the year when we didn’t think we’d have a Christmas. We saw my daddy between two and four times a year. One of those visits was always between Thanksgiving and Christmas. He would show up and slam his truck door loud enough for us to hear it, and my sister and I would run outside to greet him. He would stand there, fists on hips, that devious, smiling, lean, dishonest devil of a father, laughing that completely delighted laugh of his, his weather-bronzed face split by an enigmatic smile, and scoop us up in his arms and swing us around as he loped to the…
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All I’ve Got
I was working at my desk this afternoon when I heard Bluebelle whimper and fuss behind me. I looked back at her, followed her gaze, and saw a lovely young spike buck in the front yard, feeding on whatever caught his liquid brown eye. I watched him for a bit, took a few pictures, and then sat back down. When I looked up again, the buck was gone. He lives with a fully-grown six-pointer, two does, and a fawn in the woods behind our house. It is a never-fading wonder to watch such lithe, muscular beauty move through my world in such an unself-conscious way. And I am grateful. ***…
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Santa and the Bad Man Behind Blue Eyes
For over seventy years, a sweet tradition has been observed in this region. Every year, the “Santa Train” snakes its way through the steep ridges and hollows from Pikeville, KY down to Kingsport, TN, stopping along the route at several locations. Santa Claus rides the train, and from the back of the train he throws candy, winter clothing, toys, stuffed animals, and other gifts to the children who await the train. The tradition started all those decades ago as a way to bring Christmas to the wretchedly poor children of isolated hamlets of Appalachia, and through the years has featured a special guest to ride with Santa and help distribute…
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For My Mother’s People
Sung in the haunting voice of the mountain people.
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Sitting Outside The Gates
This week marks the one-year anniversary of two deaths. The contrast between the lives of the two dead people is more striking with every passing day. The first was a young woman from an affluent background. She was sullen, self-absorbed, and from what I could see, cruel to her family. Her parents had done everything they could to usher her into adulthood, providing for her material and educational needs, and supporting her frequent and wildly unrealistic ideas about what she wanted to be when and if she grew up. When she died, it was what coroners like to call “death by misadventure.” The remaining question for her family and friends…