It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry

Lately, I’ve been feeling like a train. Kind of moaning and wailing my way around. Rattling. Things breaking down. Falling apart. You know how it is. You get a certain age and things just start to slip a bit. More wrinkles, less get up and go. But thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, I’ve got a brand new hip and now that I can actually get around again, I’m starting to find my mirth. It’s easier sometimes to sit down and cry, but laughing is a whole lot more…

It’s Poetry Month

Hey y’all! In celebration of Poetry Month, I thought I’d share a few of my previously published poems. I hope you enjoy them. And constructive criticism is always welcome here at Tea Cakes and Whiskey. So please feel free to comment or ask questions. I have been busy getting ready for hip replacement surgery, but I’d love to get your input. I wrote this first poem about my grandfather. He was a farmer in southeast Alabama. He was also one of the best story-tellers I’ve ever known. I miss sitting on…

Life Lessons from a Friend

Sometimes we are lucky enough to have people come into our lives who make us better. My friend Charles McInnis was such a person. My favorite question from Charles was “What if?” He was always encouraging and helpful to everyone he met. He had a way of making you feel like you were the most talented person in the room, but we all knew that he was. His talents went far beyond writing, teaching and photography. He had that talent so few of us have — the talent to bring…

Going for the Gusto

I made a deal with myself a few years ago. For the rest of my life I will do what I want to do. I will “Suck the marrow out of life.” Enjoy my family and friends. Now I suppose this sounds like a no-brainer for a person of my — um, age. But I’ve discovered how quickly time can go by.As Dylan croons, “Time is a jet-plane/It moves too fast.”  (You’re a Big Girl Now, from Blood on the Tracks.) It does indeed, my friends. Now I say all this, to…

South Meets South at Cafe Wha?

There are stories out there that need to be told. Rich stories, of the South especially, that beg to be shared and recorded so we may not forget we have a legacy rich in language and peculiarities – a dialect that is unique. Stories that are sometimes funny, sometimes disturbing, and sometimes soothing as a summer rain, but always comforting and familiar to those of us who grew up here. I was reminded of this a few weeks ago while on a trip to New York City. On my last…