On the perks of being part of a community.
On tee-ball, the Steroid Era, and the love of baseball.
When I’m at a coffee shop, I’m a small cog in society, a blimp surveying the crowd and admiring the faces, seeing and being seen, outside my head and assuming a better skin.
Things can get cramped in our little home, especially when it’s 28-degrees outside and we’re all half-sick, but out on the trail, the dogs and I are liberated.
Pondering mortality on Purgatory Mountain.
Reflections on holidays past, present, and future.
Reflections on the changing nature of holiday traditions.
Thoughts on grief, doom-scrolling and a vibrant Appalachian autumn.
“I didn’t know what to do the day after Christmas. So I stayed in my pajamas until 11 a.m.”
“You take a couple sips of the hot, earthy liquid, and off goes your mind. Now you’re floating. Near the ceiling, mingling with the smoky coffee bean scent. You’re settling into your body again.”
“Small things can still wonder. Gods don’t have that luxury. I don’t think it’d be all that fun to be a God.”
Reflections on bloodlines and fatherhood.
“If not Italy or Holland, then where are we headed?”
“Every time something major is poised to happen in my life, my wife, Caitlin, and I split for the coast. This is a deliberate action.”
“I’m not one to believe in vague portents, but after living through a year as awful as 2020, I’m not really sure what to believe anymore.”
“On the opposite end, there are the forgotten. The lottery nobody wants to win, but must be won by some. The unluckily lucky ones, the one-in-a-million that nobody wishes to be.”
“With a chainsaw, a rake and a machete, I set out to butcher the bramble.”
“There’s no telling how these things will play out, what his life will hold for him, because right now he’s just an idea, a bump in Caitlin’s stomach.”
“I grew up believing the world was a nurturing place. September 11 obliterated that worldview.”
Notes on an Irreverent Pregnancy
“Walking may not be the most practical mode of transportation. But there’s something magical about strolling around a city.”
My name is Speedy Greenawalt and I record music that no one hears.
A critical exploration of childhood movies.
A reflection on the incomprehensible.
‘The trouble isn’t understanding, in theory, that we don’t want to become that little gray man. The hard part is taking the proper actions to stave him off.’
‘Early morning presents an opportunity to actually enjoy drinking our coffee — that is to say, it allows us to notice things, instead of having our attention pulled in 36 different directions at once.’
A brief essay on the act of writing.
‘RIP, 20s. And goodbye unicorn. You were turbulent and frustrating and enlightening. I enjoyed you, I hated you, I’ll recall you fondly, but I won’t miss you.’
Ourland 