Hope. That's what my wife's family, immigrants from Greece who were fleeing the Nazis, malnutrition, and despair, were in search of. First, hope came via soldiers who saved her grandmother from the village. Then it came in the form of a ship, loaded with Greeks who were seeking the same. Then, finally, it came as a cloaked, bronzed lady, holding her flame high for all the world to see. That flame has been tested in the past, and is being tested now. And I've got hope it will burn brighter tomorrow than it does today. $20 from each print will go to the ACLU to protect the rights of immigrants today who are also fleeing their homelands. This is a PRESALE. We'll print these up and mail in a few weeks. Link in header.
We're called to help the orphan, the widow, the oppressed, the filthy, the refugee. And we're also called to remember we're just like them.
Spent today exploring the industrial history of the Charles River from Watertown on up to the old Waltham Watch Works. Also, my ride looks like a WWII motorcycle.
They're surely disappearing. I saw my first painted barn on the way up to Pulaski. On a back highway. Lonely, off in the distance, hollering. The words were a collection that didn't make sense to the young boy, riding in the car with his Pa. Then, over the years, I'd see them less and less. Falling back into the kudzu or painted over 'cause of legislation. But you can't take that memory. Every time I see one, I remember that day: driving with the windows down, listening to A.M., with nowhere to go and a long time to get there.
Working on a new one.
I look at our 1946 Greyhound roll sign and don't see beautiful type design. I see those Freedom Riders who would've caught this bus, in Atlanta, or Nashville, and ridden through Alabama cotton fields. Heading to those places that live in history as waypoints in the civil rights struggle, but then were just a bus stop on that long, hot, thankless ride South. Black and white letters, coming together to form town names. Black and white folks, coming together to change history. Y'all have been asking for years, so we printed them up. It means a lot to us. We hope it will to you, too.
I still can't get over that last minute drive Monday night. Good golly! Well, in honor of that and a number of other big plays the Tigers put up in this memorable year, we're pre selling this Clemson print and we're going to ink them up real soon. Grab one for you and one for your dad and she'll be mailed down before long.
Bama wants Oneida. Sure, Saban continues to do amazing things down in Tuscaloosa. But he'll never come close to the success of Oneida – the first organized football club in America (1862). It was made up of a bunch of former private school boys who met out on the Common and duked it out in all kinds of weather. One of the boys who payed went on to sail yachts that won America's Cup. One was the creator of what we now know as modern naval navigation. One got suspended from Harvard for throwing snowballs. One ended up becoming the governor of the Commonwealth. But their biggest achievement was their play. There on an oft overlooked monument in the Boston Common, a story is told that is just as impressive in its simplicity as in its content. "On this field the Oneida Football Club of Boston, the first organized football club in the United States, played against all comers from 1862 to 1865. The Oneida goal was never crossed."
New emojis are gonna make 2017 amazing. 🥃
Dum spiro spero.- Cicero There is nothing better. With hope, tomorrow is better than today. With hope, a few minutes from now will be easier than a few minutes ago. The men of South Carolina knew it back in 1776 when they put it on the state's crest. Those were dark days. Lorded over from across the Atlantic. Forced to do things they didn't want to do by folks who didn't give them any say. Battling not only the land and elements, but despair. But they had hope. Hope in a future. Hope in this new land. Hope of things to come. They clung to it. And those South Carolinians haven't let it go yet.
I'd my house looked like this, I wouldn't undeck the halls either. 📍@anthonyrfox
My resolution this year is to spend more time being the hands of feet of Jesus. To get outside of myself and spend time with those who are lonely, lost, cold, cast out, down on their luck and broken. Spend time with them because that is exactly who I was until I found hope in a man who was born into a broken world. Who came into the madness that was a globe spiraling out of control. Who took what we viewed as holy and placed it in the back, and took what we saw as beyond hope and placed it at the front. I spend too much of my time in self preservation mode trying to gather up my treasures so I feel validated and secure. I need to give that time back to the widows and the orphans and the refugees. My goal shouldn't be to sneak into the last row of heaven. It shouldn't even be to get to heaven. In this banged up and broken world, my resolution should be to bring heaven to earth.