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Victorian home in Savannah

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                                                                     Managing a home share in Savannah feels like being the keeper of countless untold stories. The mahogany floors creak with history, and antique appointments whisper tales of yesteryear. While some might call it "just another Airbnb," I prefer to think of it as a stage where life's most fascinating dramas unfold, two or three days at a time. For seven years, I've welcomed travelers from across the globe to this slice of Southern history. They come to explore Savannah's infamous historic district, but sometimes they leave me with stories that could fill volumes. It's not always the loud or obvious moments that stick with you – sometimes it's the quiet ones that linger longest in memory. Just today, a striking couple checked in: sh...
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Voting One's Conscience

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As a new presidential election dawns, I would argue that Joe Biden is the worst president of my lifetime, but I could not in good conscience vote for Donald trump.  While Biden offers a semblance of dignity that the office of the President portends, his costly blunders—stumbling out of Afghanistan, failing to secure our southern boarder, and enabling Palestinian genocide— which will stain this country for generations to come—casts him as an incompetent leader in my view.  Trump, on the other hand, strips naked the honor and decency of the presidency.  He is a natural born liar, huckster, and soon to be convicted felon. I would wager all that I hold dear he has not read a single book in 50 years.  Such is the way he comes across—simple minded, inarticulate, and silly.  His saving grace is the fact that he is white; and yet our enemies understand that he is inept enough to risk war without bothering to weigh the consequences. For this they fear him more than Biden...
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Urban Education

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       Urban Education    It was a typical teaching rotation.  The halls were packed with teenagers traipsing the halls and gyrating in circles while teachers and campus security prodded them toward their 8 am classes.  Profanity, some quite vulgar, was openly used as if no concerned adults were around.  It was like herding cats.    I stood outside my door waiting for the throng of hooligans to find their way inside.  They swarmed like locusts.  Chants of “We got a sub!!!” echoed through the hall while dreams of salvation were fading fast.  A cadre of ruffians were now in my charge.  Or I in theirs.     As they filed right pass, some of them mouthed hip-hop verses that bounced rhythmically to the beats in their heads.  A few greeted me with the standard “wuddup bro” or “OOH OOH!  You know who you look like??"    Some even quizzed me about my racial ide...
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