Posts tagged Westwood Avenue
Shootin' the Breeze

You can find them at the corner of Westwood and Summar, really anytime of day—the group of men of various ages, sometimes a few women or children mixed in. They gather around in a circle in white, resin chairs, discussing sports, the daily goings on in the news, or updates on their kids and grandkids. (That’s at least what I imagine; they could be talking about nuclear physics or the Kardashians, what do I know?) These gentlemen seem to be the epitome of “community.”

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Winds of Change

The Wizard of Oz. That’s my earliest memory of the power of a tornado. From the time I saw that witch riding a bicycle in the air with that house spinning out of control, the power of a tornado had me under its thumb. As a five-year-old, I had no idea how close I would come to that dominance that struck so much fear in me as a child. West Tennessee, and Jackson in particular, is no stranger to tornadoes. As much as we think tornadoes are an indiscriminate act of nature, they’re not. 

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Stay 731: Choosing Wonder

It seems quite contradictory to write a piece on why people should stay in Jackson on the eve of our move to Nashville. After eight years of choosing to stay, the decision to leave didn’t come easily, and I certainly put up a fight. However, I had to come to terms with the fact that sometimes a dream is for a season, and it’s okay for dreams to develop towards other places. You don’t have to abandon a sense of “place” once you move.

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Becoming a Neighbor: An Ode to Midtown

Megan was a fact nut, the kind of girl who was interested in the details in everything she studied. She once committed a semester to checking out a certain number of design books at the library just to keep herself inspired in her trade and always learning. So it shouldn’t have surprised me when began research on her new historic duplex on Arlington and affectionately referred to it by the name the metal sign read outside: The Merriweather House.

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On: Westwood Gardens

The events, places, people, and things that we remember in our lives can be extremely non-discriminant. In a singular moment, I sometimes think that whatever I’m doing or whoever I’m talking to in that moment is so important or emotional that it will be burned into my mind forever, only to realize a few weeks later that I can’t even remember the moment. I simply remember thinking that I would remember the moment.

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