Refuge
After a week of televised destruction witnessed from
Boulder, we moved to the cabin on Lake Hartwell that my grandfather built before I was born. One of the only constants in my life, it was never a better source of solace. We shared it for a time with David, a fellow New Orleans refugee. Weeks passed with no news of the fate of our house. The days and nights were almost eerily calm and flawless. We swam, we boated, and we tried not to worry about things that we cannot change.Tinkering
Here I am trying to get my brother Yates' old Land Cruiser up and running. These wheels took me up the road to Clemson University, which was kind enough to offer me Visiting Scholar status for the semester.
