On the Nightshift.
I drank my first coffee, in high school, at the Athens Waffle House right beside I-65. It was weak but it was the strongest thing I'd drank up to that point. It was cooling down while Willie Nelson was coming up on the juke box and it is a memory I've had burned into my brain since. I spent all kinds of nights there in the years since, as a young guy then as a college guy, then as a married guy, then as a father, then as a father twice-over. There ain't any close to us here in Boston, but you know right where to find me when my travels take me back home. At a booth in the back, with a pot of coffee, a table full of friends, and a plate of hash browns all the way.
Several years ago at the Thanksgiving table we started talking about names for our first child. Pops brought up a bunch of different family names. Since our family is Cherokee there are some great ones and one name in particular stuck with me: Billy Bible. I thought it fitting for this print that has six crosses. Crosses being the Native American symbol for stars, representing high ideals, that appear on the state flag behind the peace pipe and the olive branch. Printed up with blue, to represent devotion. Our child didn't end up being called Bible when it was all said and done, but we still point her to those high ideals on which Billy and our people set their hope.
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. The story they tell means a lot to us. We hope it does to you, too. Link in header.
The other day, a big paper in New York City decried the disappearance of manners. And not just folks' manners north of the line, but Southerners. Well, Momma didn’t raise no heathens, and we thought this would be the right time to remind us all of what she and Daddy taught us. Manners might be going out of fashion up here, but they aren’t going to disappear from the South. Not on our watch, they’re not. No ma'am. Link in header.
The foods I love best are those that have a partner. The caloric analog of Bonnie and Clyde. If there's one thing I miss living up here, it's the eats. Momma's cooking and those mouth watering hole-in-the-wall Meat and 3s from Texas all the way up the Eastern seaboard. While you might find cornbread from time to time (though it's more like cake) you can't find a decent biscuit up here. These here won't replace a good dinner, but they sure will make good dinner conversation. Eat up. Time's a wasting. (Link in bio.)