Courtesy of the Dog
Because we all need a little break:
Put Him Back in His Place
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 21 Comments on Put Him Back in His Place
Why am I so mad about the presidential race? Because I’ve lived through this shit. I’ve been stalked while riding my bike, cutting and swerving through the neighborhood, trying to get away from the pickup truck, pedaling as fast as I could, realizing I couldn’t outrun him, couldn’t keep up my flight much longer. I’ve...
The Morris Girls
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General, LOVE. 10 Comments on The Morris Girls
Her face is alive with joy. And beauty, such beauty. In her fitted navy dress that hugs every curve, with Bigmama’s diamond bar pin sparkling in the vee of her neckline, she walks down the aisle with perfect poise. And confidence. She has such confidence. My heart swells with love for, and pride in, my sister. My big sister. The mother of the...
Sic ‘Em, Brain
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 15 Comments on Sic ‘Em, Brain
The young woman squirmed in her seat, responding to the hypnotist’s questions. She and I were students at North Carolina’s Governor’s School in the 1970s. In the lecture halls of Governor’s School, I first learned of quantum mechanics and the theory of general relativity. I also first experienced hypnotism.
Put under,...
Hard Truths I’ve (Recently) Learned
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General, GRIEF. 8 Comments on Hard Truths I’ve (Recently) Learned
1: You don’t get Fitbit steps by wearing walking shoes.
2: The heat index is real.
3: Toilet paper doesn’t buy itself.
4: The dog likes me best when I’m giving her a treat.
5: When I say “I don’t want to do anything today,” I mean, “I only want to do what I want to do today.”
6: I spend most days not doing what I want.
7: Doing what I want is...
Entertaining Angels Unawares
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General, GOD, LOVE. 6 Comments on Entertaining Angels Unawares
Like a water bug on a lake, he zipped past me, twirling around the display case, flailing his skinny arms, talking to himself, entertaining himself at the T-Mobile store. He was my favorite kind of child. A frenetic, voluble young boy of five or six, the type of child who might puzzle his classmates and drive his parents to distraction.
A child...
What the Hell, Dentists?
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 4 Comments on What the Hell, Dentists?
For all of my adult life, I’ve been flossing. Okay, okay. Not when I was in college–who needs to floss when the only thing going in your mouth is cold beer? And not when I was a young lawyer. Man, I was too busy trying to make partner to floss. And not when I was newly divorced—I gave up all reputable pursuits during that period of my life and...
How to Fail at the Race Talk
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in Featured, General, GOD, HOMELESSNESS, LOVE, Racism to Reconciliation. 4 Comments on How to Fail at the Race Talk
I failed at the conference for racial justice this weekend.
I gave racially tinged advice to a perfectly innocent question that had no race element to it.
I mistook one African-American woman with glasses and short hair for a different African-American woman with glasses and short hair, because all African-Americans look alike to us white folks.
Multiple...
You are Not My Conservative Friend
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General, LOVE. 22 Comments on You are Not My Conservative Friend
Two years ago, my husband and I went to Central Europe and heard the stories of those once neighbors—laughing together, eating supper, playing cards—who fell to pieces over “Serb” and “Croat” and “Muslim,” and began killing one another.
We all know the stories of Germany where those who were once the piano...
Don’t Tell Me about Your Assault Rifle
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General, GRIEF. 8 Comments on Don’t Tell Me about Your Assault Rifle
I no more want to know you like assault weapons than I want to know what kinky things you do with a porn magazine in your hand. You see, if you’ve moved past guns for self-protection into defending your right to own war weaponry, that’s a fetish. And—I’m not trying to be rude—I simply don’t need to know that about you.
Yes,...