I drove home early Saturday morning after spending the evening accompanying my father-in-law at a hospital as he recovers from open heart surgery.
I drove home, thinking about my own father, and how the last time I left a hospital was the day he died, almost 11 weeks ago.
I drove home, playing Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, an album officially released 20 years ago today, and one whose words and music always find new ways to move me, even (and maybe especially) after all this time.
I do not want my kindness to be in hindsight.
As I’ve mourned recent deaths and mulled my own mortality, I’ve thought about what I’m putting into the universe.
I do not like the bitterness I’ve developed.
I’m thrilled to announce the online debut of my first published collection of drawings and doodles I dare call “art.”
I’m pleased to be part of The Sketchbook Project 2018, giving me an outlet for the drawings I started creating in 2017 to deal with the presidential administration and the turmoil in its wake.
So, please enjoy Not an Exit (and share with friends)!
The following is the commencement speech I gave this afternoon at Powell County High School in my hometown of Stanton, Ky. I was a member of the Class of 1993.
The first words my mother said upon being told I’d been asked to speak today were “Please don’t embarrass me.”
Not “I’m proud” or “good luck” or even “they should’ve asked your sister instead.” Nope. Just “don’t embarrass me.”
So, to honor my mom’s wishes, I’ve made a list of topics to avoid: meth, Donald Trump, asking where the after-parties are, stories about my mom, stories about my dad and more meth.
To the person who invited me here today, I’m afraid you’ve made a huge mistake. To Superintendent Michael Tate and Principal Kendall Kearns it’s an honor to be here, but you should know Martina Skidmore is responsible for what’s to follow. To be fair, she’s been a friend since kindergarten, and I thank her for having faith in me. I hope to make my mother proud. I cannot, however, promise I won’t embarrass her. Continue reading
Nathan Brooks was born to be a middle child.
Even as a baby, he was never The Baby, long before Jon came along and assumed that still-standing title. Almost from the beginning, Nathan has been a peacemaker, a mediator, a negotiator, a giver.
This, incidentally, makes him more of a Brooks than a Hall. Granted, my knowledge of the Brooks family is pretty much limited to Troy, while my Hall history has a whole host from which to choose, but even among that sample, I’m confident in my statement.
Charles Farmer liked my dad.
Sure, many people (I think) love Doc Hall, but to like him can be something a bit more challenging. He can be any one (or combination) of the following: loud, goofy, obnoxious, stubborn and in the interest of any potential inheritance someday I’m going to stop listing them
(although to be fair, I’m really just naming things about myself since the apple and tree find themselves in close geographic proximity). Continue reading