Mrs. Loggins taught English at a high school in rural North Carolina where I grew up. If she had stood on her tiptoes, she might have barely stretched past the five-feet mark on a door jamb. She was pleasingly plump and wore her dark hair in a cute pixie cut. As one of the younger teachers, she connected well with 16-year-olds. I had the luck and privilege of being one of her tenth-grade students.
A funeral hangs by a thread. Or, the Seinfeld version of a solemn occasion.
W hen the service ended, I walked through the church doors and down the front steps, and there stood Samuel (not his real name), waiti...
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I found an old bucket in the woods and planted a mum in it. Over the years, the roots of this plant have been buried under snow, froz... -
About ten years ago, a guy named Dean Potter and a friend, Graham Hunt, put on their wingsuits and jumped off a cliff. The wingsuits enabled...
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After traveling down some back roads and winding through the hills of Virginia, we began climbing a mountain, leaning into one hairpin...