As I age, I hear my father’s words come out of my mouth with greater frequency. I see how strongly I have been imprinted by my father. I have his creativity, work ethic, conviction, stubbornness, and tendency toward anger as a way of expressing concern. I deeply love and respect my father, and as my … Continue reading Becoming my father
Tag: Southerners
River rescue
From my earliest days as a rookie features writer at The Macon Telegraph in 1992, I heard reporters talk about canoeing the Ocmulgee River and writing about it for the paper. I was young and foolish enough to attempt it. In the late summer of 1993 I began the ambitious project of paddling the entire … Continue reading River rescue
Above ground
This time of year always makes me nostalgic for the glorious summer-and-a-half my family had an above-ground swimming pool. With temperatures climbing into the 90s now, I can't help but wish for a dip in the pool like those carefree summer days in my pre-teens. This vintage ad from the 1980s gives you an idea … Continue reading Above ground
My mother’s voice
I can’t remember the last time I heard my mother sing. I’m sure it was during a visit to my parents’ church before my dad retired, but that was four or five years ago now. I didn’t realize I missed hearing her sing until a clear childhood memory of Mom practicing a solo for our … Continue reading My mother’s voice
What’s in a name, part 1
Our middle son will turn 17 on May 2, and this is the perfect time to look at how our penchant for family names resulted in him being named "Harris Goodman Wallace." See what I mean about the hair? Our second born was the only one of the three we didn’t know the gender of … Continue reading What’s in a name, part 1
My earliest memory
It’s difficult to separate my actual memories from my memories of old photographs. It’s why people take pictures in the first place. Many of the images of my early childhood are captured on slides rather than prints, and the slides are in carousels at my parents’ house, packed away in closets, unseen in 30 or … Continue reading My earliest memory
Fists of fury
“I’m a runner, not a fighter” is my standard line when the subject of fighting comes up. I am not prone to aggression, but twice in my life I found myself involved in the kinds of fisticuffs that boys have been getting into since the beginning of time. My fighting form resembled the gentlemanly and … Continue reading Fists of fury
The wisest person I’ve ever known
The Rev. Billy Mauldin was my pastor from birth until age 12 when my family moved to Central Florida. Brother Mauldin, as he was known in our home and in our church, embodied the calling of “pastor” for me and was my ideal for a preacher, counselor and leader. The Rev. Billy Mauldin My earliest … Continue reading The wisest person I’ve ever known
Appreciating my brothers, part 1
Arthur Lee Wallace arrived on the scene on March 17, 1974, changing all of our lives. I was three-and-a-half and not convinced it was for the better. I eyed him with suspicion as he disrupted the established order that had me at the center. New baby Lee got all the attention. In my shyness, I … Continue reading Appreciating my brothers, part 1
Bravery isn’t the absence of fear
The concept of “being the man of the house” feels archaic in today’s equality-driven society, but in our home, that role comes with one unescapable duty: protect the occupants from bugs and critters. That’s why I found myself doing battle in the middle of the night in my underwear with a little brown bat. We … Continue reading Bravery isn’t the absence of fear
New South Essays 