Being a Conflicted Southerner.

 

I heard Tom Petty's 'Southern Accents' on the radio today for the first time in what must be decades. It's always stirred a strange feeling in me. To be perfectly honest, it makes me reflect upon a topic that's very personal. I've never discussed this openly before.

I've always been very conflicted about being a Southerner. There have been times in my life where I was ashamed of being from the South. I thought I was too good for the culture, to put it bluntly. At other times of my life, I've wanted to be more Southern, but knew I just didn't fit in with the other country boys. I was a spare tire in the bed of their proverbial truck.

I've never been one for driving four wheelers and getting dirty; for going to country and western bars or being altogether rebellious. I can't understand the thrill of riding a horse. I'm too afraid to drive a motorcycle and I'm not a very good fisherman. You wouldn't catch me dead picking tobacco and I don't like southern summers. Being outside isn't something I like most days, as I'd rather be playing a game or reading a book inside. I suck at camping. I don't talk to the big man upstairs very often because I'm not sure anyone is listening... and if they are, I'm not sure they care.

I'm about about as un-Southern as someone could be. And yet, here I am wearing this mask of a culture I'm not really a part of. I can't take it off.

Sometimes I'm embarrassed by my Southern Virginia / Carolina accent. I don't pronounce words that rhyme with 'oil' correctly. My cadence is slow and paced with my breathing. When I get the slightest bit frustrated, my voice gets louder and the accent becomes bolder. I'm not very proud of how I sound. That's probably why I prefer to write and stay silent.

And yet, I'm proud of where my family and ancestors come from. They're hard working people that went through a lot with very little to show for it. Whether from the Carolinas, Virginia, West Virginia, Kentucky, or Tennessee... they all lived hard, sincere lives that exemplify what the highest ideal of being a Southerner represents. Southerners are genuine, caring, and loyal to a fault. They'll feed a stranger and always know how to make friends.

I'm not sure if there's a point to all this, but being Southern isn't something I've ever done very well. I just hope my ancestors wouldn't be disappointed in me.

The Importance of Writing Letters.

I’ll set the scene…

Pressing against your front door, you step into the foggy, overcast glow of a misty day. The birds are calling; the trees drip with water. A breeze brushes against your face, sending the hair on the back of your neck into a fervor. Minuscule droplets of rain grace the lids of your eyes. Briskly, you dart down your porch steps and strut along your driveway. Reaching the end, you drop the flap of your mailbox with conviction and reach inside. The anticipation is nearly unbearable. Your fingertips can feel the rough organic surface of a letter. Pulling it out, you close your eyes for just a moment. Where did it come from? Who wrote it? You open your eyes…

Could you feel that? That’s what millions of people experienced every day before the advent of mobile phones, the internet, and social media. The ardor of receiving a letter in the mail from a friend or loved one was the highlight of the day for many. It kept people together, despite the countless miles that may separate them physically. Much less, a letter represented the act of willing thoughts and feelings into existence. What once resided solely in the mind of the writer now had life; a letter was a tangible embodiment of sentiment.

I fear we’ve lost that crucial connection of sentiment in the Twenty-First Century. Never have people been more connected, but also more alone.

The older I get, the more I miss getting letters, cards, and postcards from friends, family, and pen pals. When I was a teenager, receiving mail seemed like second nature; it was a facet of life that I took for granted. Even receiving magazines in the post was something to get excited over.

Magazines… remember those? Nintendo Power and Wizard, I weep for both of you.

Barreling towards my forties, I miss what I once so carelessly took for granted. When I do receive a card or letter, it genuinely warms my heart. Thanks to the select few of you that still send me things in the mail; you know who you are.

Letters embody the purposeful communion of love and friendship between people. The effort to write down your ideas, address an envelope, purchase a stamp, and place the letter in a mailbox certainly isn’t a difficult task. And yet, that uncomplicated journey is a task with meaning. It takes motivation. Nowadays, one person can send another person a text message while using the bathroom, giving no further thought to the sheer magnitude of what they just accomplished. We can wondrously tweet and instant message and snap and kik and blow up our BFF’s Instagram simultaneously in the same time it takes to put on our shoes.

I feel disgusting for that last sentence; please forgive me for momentarily talking like a modern teenager.

Writing letters teaches us patience, sincerity, and gratitude. It humbles our sense of self in an ever-expanding world of technology. To think, words that could require months to arrive, as recently as a mere thirty years ago, can now be shared in an instant. By increasing the quantity of words that we share, have we not lessened their quality? A letter carries weight by sheer necessity, projecting the most important and heartfelt invocations of humanity itself.

Modern technology is fantastic. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to reach you with this very article. That being said, the use of technology also carries a measure of personal responsibility with it. As a collective society, we’ve lost a part of our identity to technology – our ability to project sincere feelings, to create bonds, to maintain relationships. We’ve practically become disposable to each other, much in the same way that we disregard the deluge of instantaneous dispatches that flood our cell phones, timelines, and feeds. Letters circumvent this pitfall by forcing us to take each other with earnest regard. As such, I recommend sending pieces of handwritten mail to your friends and family whenever possible. Not only is it a delight for the receiver, but it’s also a healthy alternative to throw-away cables sent over the internet. Writing truly is terrific for your spirit.

I know I’m fighting a losing battle here, but that doesn’t mean we can’t at least try to turn this ship around. When I send someone a piece of snail mail, I’m trying to establish a connection. Sometimes it works out, but more often than not it doesn’t. Ultimately, I’m left asking myself…

What will be left to salvage of our civilization when the majority of our conversations carry such negligible significance?

If you would like to exchange mail with me (and I would hope you would), then let me know in the comment section below.

In Defense of the American Nuclear Family.

I recently read an article in the latest issue of The Atlantic entitled ‘The Nuclear Family Was a Mistake’ that left me feeling deeply incensed. The author describes how the ideal of an American Nuclear Family is a false premise predicated upon classism, racism, and American Exceptionalism. Essentially, having a father and mother in the same home with their children is not the default; normal, healthy families are a blended mix of single parents, extended family, and potentially a revolving door of multiple partners that come in and out of a child’s life. A nuclear family is unhealthy because it provides a child with a limited set of adults from which wisdom can be drawn. As such, only wealthy White people have nuclear families because it is affordable to them.

I’d love to see a precise definition of what makes someone white, but I digress.

To quote the author of the article, David Brooks:

“Conservatives have nothing to say to the kid whose dad has split, whose mom has had three other kids with different dads; “go live in a nuclear family” is really not relevant advice. If only a minority of households are traditional nuclear families, that means the majority are something else: single parents, never-married parents, blended families, grandparent-headed families, serial partnerships, and so on. Conservative ideas have not caught up with this reality.”

Therein exists the fault in the author’s assertion, though. He expects ideals and principles to follow degenerate behavior, thereby reinforcing and justifying the degeneracy. It’s essentially the equivalent of sticking your finger in a light socket and proclaiming, “Getting electrocuted is normal, everybody is doing it. If you’re not doing it, then you’re the weirdo!”

Leftist ideologues like Mr. Brooks revel in explaining away their harmful values as realistic and suited to the norms of modern society. Many families don’t have both parents in the home and that’s how it should be, as Mr. Brooks would lead you to believe. It’s not normal for children to have a mother and a father, so it must not be correct. More and more families are lacking one of the parents in the home, so that means it’s okay… right? The defamation of the nuclear family is an intellectual shrug; a relinquishment of accountability in the face of mounting societal collapse.

That’s the funny thing about objective truth, though; it remains true whether you believe it or not.

Objectively, children do better when they have their father and mother living together in the same home. Their chances of graduating high school and going on to earning a higher education spike dramatically. Accordingly, their ability to break through the poverty barrier and become self-sufficient adults also sharply rises. Single parents earn less and are less likely to have finished high school; they’re also more likely to live in poverty. Even worse, most single-parent homes are led by the mother. An absent father has a frighteningly negative impact upon a child. Fathers imbue a certain measure of masculine knowledge that both sons and daughters need to become independent, well-rounded adults. This isn’t to say that women can’t teach children valuable life lessons; they absolutely can and do. The difference is that fathers and mothers teach different lessons that neither can completely encompass alone. Without one parent, the other is left to manage the best way they can; invariably, some masculine or feminine standards and lessons are missed.

Here’s the point that I want to make – just because someone else is screwing up, that doesn’t mean you should purposefully screw up too. Don’t let the behavior of others justify your abandonment of principles and decency. Instead of having children with multiple partners and being a single parent, act responsibly and be more selective of your sexual partners. I’m not even bringing religion into this argument, either; this is far more rudimentary than lofty questions related to God, the afterlife, and spiritual morality. This is a question of common sense. Do you want your potential children to live with their father and mother? You absolutely should. Demonizing the ideal of a nuclear family doesn’t miraculously make the anti-nuclear family warranted. The nuclear family living next door isn’t to blame for your lack of personal responsibility.

I can’t help but mordantly chuckle at the sadness of this whole situation. Honestly, the lack of personal responsibility is a pervasive blight upon all corners of the American landscape; that’s a whole other book-sized can of worms I could write about.

I should also be clear -- extended family is a wonderful thing. I want every child to know and learn from their grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and so forth. The nuclear family should be at the core of a child’s existence, though; that’s a habitual fact which must be applied whenever and however possible.

As I was researching data for this article, it became glaringly apparent that the leftists at The Atlantic aren’t the only deceitful maligners pushing this anti-nuclear family agenda. All my Google web searches produced alarming headlines that took priority in the results provided.

• Do children in two-parent families do better?
• The myth of the nuclear family.
• Single moms get it done!
• Minorities should blame Whites for their dad’s being locked up.

Regrettably, this is an active agenda to divide the American populace and deconstruct the traditional family unit. Why? Because the globalist puppeteers wielding left-leaning media outlets like sabers want to bring down America. How do you do that? By imploding where the American spirit is born and cultivated – within the home. The quickest way to defeat our remarkable republic is to smother the proverbial hearth of the American family. Once the family is made obsolete, then the individual can be further eroded, too. Before long, you wind up with a dystopian society that values the state over the individual.

In essence, the reinforcement of the American Nuclear Family is a defense of liberty itself.

To My Mother-In-Law, On Her Birthday.

It's not often that we meet a genuinely compassionate and understanding person. Someone that forgives your shortcomings and accepts you just as you are. We've known each other for nearly twelve years. And yet, since the moment we first met, you've treated me like one of your own. Like I was family.

Over the years, you've done what you could to make me feel comfortable in your home. You've fed me and given me love. You always ask how I'm doing and if I need anything. Most importantly, you've never judged me for the person I am. And trust me... I know I can be difficult. My middle name should have been prickly.

I'm not always the best to reciprocate your affection. Hell, I'm not that great at being warmhearted with anyone. Don't think for a moment that I don't notice what you do, though. Each and every tailored sleeping accommodation, the freshly-cooked meals, the birthday and Christmas presents. The hugs and words of encouragement. I remember them all because they're important to me, just like you are.

There's a lot to admire about you. The dedication to your family. The drive to succeed without help. The lovable stubbornness and selfless attitude. You're someone that doesn't let her boat sink in even the roughest of seas. For you, giving up simply isn't an option.

I've gone through a great deal of emotional turmoil in the decade plus that you've known me. During that time, you were a genuine mother to me. Now that I consider it, I've probably spent more time talking with you than I did my own biological mother. That speaks mounds, if you ask me. I might have come from a different womb, but you are as much of a mother to me as anyone could be. I say if the shoe fits, then wear it.

Thank you for being a constant source of support in my life. On this day, your birthday, there's no gift I can give you that can represent just how thankful I am for knowing you. Much less, for being my mother. With much love...

Happy Birthday Ann!

He Grew Up So Fast! My Brother James Is 23!

Well would you look at that! My brother James is a whole 23 years old today. My youngest brother has grown into a mighty fine man, if I do say so myself. Why, it was just yesterday (it seems) that he was a wee little boy. With a goofy laugh and bold sense of humor, he sure was a funny little kid. We seemed to do everything together. In fact, I think I'm the reason he became so interested in designing video games and listening to that evil rock n' roll music. It was like he was my own Mini Me! Bubba (a nickname he picked up as a kid from a stuffed bear of all things) has come a long way in life, but still has miles and miles of sailing ahead of him. He's super talented with a razor sharp wit to boot. Not afraid to speak his mind and live on the fringes of society in the name of righteousness, I greatly respect his sense of honor and courage. I've learned a great deal from my younger brother... and I'm sure he'll teach me even more as the years go on. We're lucky to have you in our lives James. Happy Birthday to you!

Bring on those embarrassing pictures!

My Brother Joshua Is 29 -- Wish Him Happy Birthday!

Such a wonderful day this is. Let's all celebrate a man with a profound spirit and a gigantic heart... my brother Joshua. On this day in 1986, he fought off an endless assault of foreign invaders, rubber gloves and metal weaponry to escape from our mother's womb. Born a fighter, but a lover at heart, Josh has walked the path of a thoughtful warrior for 29 years. He's faced adversity and challenge all along the way, but not once has he ever folded. I refer to him as the Quarter Million Dollar Man because of the super-expensive rods in his back, which he took like a CHAMP. Standing tall like a mighty oak, he's proven his worth as a man of the world. Oh Joshua... he might be my younger brother, but I'm proud to say I look up to him. Let's all give him a round of applause! Happy Birthday Joshua!

And now, the obligatory embarrassing photos!

Also, don't forget that today, November 30, is St. Andrews Day. Be sure to celebrate your inner Scot! Click here for more info.

In Gratitude This Thanksgiving.

Another Thanksgiving is about to wrap up and I've had quite the day. Having just arrived home to North Carolina after traveling all throughout Virginia has left me quite tired. As I prepare to kick my shoes off and locate a cup of tea, I can't help but show my appreciation for the friends and family in my life.

I come from nothing, to be quite honest. I've never been easy to love or simple to understand. Making friends has never been something I've done terribly well -- I have lived inside my own head for far too long. To call me awkward or different would be a massive understatement. Yet, I have all of these wonderful people filling my life. Some of these people I share blood with. Some welcomed me as one of their own. Either way, I'm damn lucky to call each and every one of you family.

I've always said that you can pick and choose your family. Family isn't about genetics; it's about whom you share a bond of love and compassion with. In that, I'm extremely lucky to have been chosen by so many smart, talented and caring human beings.

If I'm grateful for anything this Thanksgiving Day, it's for these fine folks. Thank you for being a part of my journey. Thank you for pointing me in the right direction when I got a little lost. Thank you for putting a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Thank you for somehow finding a way to decipher the puzzle that is me. I'll never be able to completely repay your gratitude in full, but I'll sure as hell try my best.

Thanksgiving Eve On The Road.

Here I am, leaning over a set of drums and watching some family members play billiards. I just scarfed down some tasty, farm-raised turkey. Even better -- I'm somewhat inebriated after quite a few beers and three glasses of wine. Life is certainly good.

Writing from the road is always a blessing and a curse. Sure, I'm on vacation, but it's difficult to publish a blog from your smart phone. I'm an old school writer; I like the feel of a keyboard sitting in front of me. But, the trade off is worth it at times. Spending time with the folks I love is valuable; I wouldn't trade it for anything.

I have learned a few valuable bits of info just now. I'm still terrible at pool and being drunk doesn't improve my gameplay ability. Alas, I guess I'll just keep drinking.

On the verge of this year's Thanksgiving, I want to reiterate the importance of the holiday. Stay home with the ones you love. Don't spend your valuable hours waiting in line at a department store. No television, no video game console, no diamond bracelet is worth the time you could be spending with your family and friends.

The most valuable things in life can't be bought or sold. They can only be shared freely in the spirit of love and selflessness.

Look to the person beside you, no matter who they are, and give them a hug. Say "I love you." It'll be worth it, I promise.

The 'National Lampoon's Vacation' Series And My Siblings.

My brother James made a comment earlier today concerning the link between the film National Lampoon's Vacation and my other brother Joshua. Essentially, he asserted that Clark Griswold and Joshua were symbolically linked.

A-ha! A light bulb went off in my head. There are four Vacation films and four Manning siblings. Perhaps we're all theoretically linked to one of the films. Let's analyze the four films and go from there, shall we?

National Lampoon's Vacation -- A well-meaning family man, Clark Griswold, wants to give his wife and kids the classic road-trip vacation they deserve. Come hell or high water, he overcomes every hurdle placed before him -- losing their money, getting lost in the desert, a dead body, etc. Even a closed theme park (Walley World), won't keep his family from completing their vacation. One BB Gun and a SWAT Team later, Clark delivers what he promised -- a vacation they would never forget. Vacation is all about having a no quit attitude. No matter what, Clark will deliver as promised. To sum the film up in one word... determination.

National Lampoon's European Vacation -- After winning an all-expense paid vacation to Europe on an absurd and degrading game show, the Griswold family proceeds to endure one dopey, goofy experience after another. In England, Clark continuously drives on the wrong side of the road and causes major problems, even getting himself stuck in a roundabout for hours. He also manages to knock over Stonehenge and incite a riot at a German folk dance festival. The whole film is driven by a foundation of silliness and folly, all at the expense of the Griswolds as stereotypical American tourists creating havoc for a wide swathe of unsuspecting Europeans. To sum the film up in one word... happiness.

National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation -- With the holidays upon them, Clark Griswold desperately wants his family to have an old-fashioned, traditional Christmas. Yet, his ineptness continues to cause problems for everyone. The trouble begins with a frigid trek into a snowy forest for a Christmas tree, but somehow forgetting to bring an ax or saw to cut it down. Before long, Clark is hosting his entire extended family in his home, which he's painstakingly covered in thousands of holiday lights. After much trial and error, he finally gets the lights to work, which nearly sends the entire city of Chicago into a blackout. Things continue to spiral out of control, with the final nail in the proverbial coffin being the news that Clark's highly anticipated monetary Christmas bonus is nothing more than a membership in the "Jelly of the Month" club. Upon having his boss kidnapped and enduring another encounter with a SWAT Team, Clark finally realizes that he's had the Christmas vacation he set out to have. No matter how bad things seemed to get, there was always faith in a bright outcome. To sum the film up in one word... hope.

Vegas Vacation -- The oddball film in the series not linked to National Lampoon, this outing sees the Griswolds take a high-rolling trip to Las Vegas. What starts out as a family vacation quickly spins out of control. The four Griswolds soon parts ways, with no sense of family at all. Even worse, Clark manages to gamble away their entire savings, with nothing to show for it. Wife Ellen is seduced by Wayne Newton. Son Rusty becomes a card shark with a fake alias. Daughter Audrey rapidly falls into the seedy underbelly of the city by attempting to become an exotic dancer. Yet, Clark realizes the error of his ways. It was never about the vacation or the money; it was about keeping his family together and spending time with them. In a last-ditched effort to recover their money, Clark spends his remaining two dollars on a keno ticket. While waiting for the results, he meets a lonely old gambler. They become very sentimental and friendly, with Clark naively telling the old timer he was now part of the Griswold family. Unsurprisingly, Clark fails to win at keno and is heartbroken. Ironically, the old timer finally wins the keno jackpot, but passes away before being able to accept it. He gifts the winning ticket to Clark and his family with his dying breath. Vegas Vacation is all about atonement and cherishing our loved ones more than anything else. To sum the film up in one word... redemption.

When I think of determination, I think of my brother Joshua.
When I think of happiness, I think of my brother James.
When I think of hope, I think of my sister Julie.
When I think of redemption, I think of myself.

Somehow, the four original Vacation films presented a theme that links us all together. How that managed to happen, I'll never know. It's just one of those weird things that happens in life, without need for an explanation. Just go with it, you know? Now... let's get traveling down that Holiday Road!

My Sister is 21! Let's Look At Some Embarrassing Photos Of Her!

Turning twenty-one is a benchmark in a person's life. Everyone feels special when they're finally old enough to buy their own beer. Throughout the years, my little sister has brought so much joy and happiness to our family. She's a cutie pie, a bruiser, a goofball, a talented actress, a singer, a fighter, a friend and perhaps most importantly... my sister. I wouldn't trade you for anything Julie. We love you! Happy Birthday!

I apologize in advance for the photos. :-)

Sleepovers, Monopoly And The Dark.

The feeling of nostalgia can have a powerful influence on the past... especially when your memories are filled with an atmosphere of wonder and eeriness. One such memory immediately pops into my mind. While the content isn't necessarily spooky in itself, the mood surrounding it sure is to me. I'll try to invoke it as best as possible.

The year was 1994.

When I was young, I always looked forward to sleepovers with my cousin Dale. He was a guy I looked up to. Cool, confident, talented, great at playing Nintendo. He was my partner in crime for many years. In many ways, he was like the older brother I never had. Sometimes I'd get the opportunity to stay over at his place, which I always eagerly anticipated. His basement was set up perfectly -- a giant television to play video games on, tons of Nintendo cartridges, plenty of room to crash and go to sleep, a little chilly but not damp. It was both inviting and a little creepy at the same time, especially when the lights were turned down low. Being able to stay there was one of the highlights of my youth. I remember those sleepovers with nothing but admiration.

On one such sleepover, there were more than just the two of us. His sister Ashley and our mutual cousin Jessica were there as well. We were all fairly close in age, so we could easily relate to one another. That night, we decided to play Monopoly until the wee hours of the morning. All of the lights in the house were turned low and candles were lit for a truly spectral ambiance. We'd rented a movie (remember VHS tapes and video stores?) to play on the living room television. It was a little known horror movie from 1993 called The Dark. This movie was your basic creature feature -- a monstrous rodent tunnels below a cemetery to consume the recently deceased. Within the film, a cop is trying to kill the monster, while a scientist is trying to save it. Why? The rat monster apparently secretes a powerful healing slime. No... I'm not making that plot up. It was a Canadian horror movie starring a pre-Party of Five Neve Campbell in one of her first roles -- go figure.

The Dark - a movie so bad, it's still not on DVD.

Anyway, we popped the tape in at some point after we had started to play Monopoly. I can recall how the atmosphere in the house progressively became so macabre. The combination of the dim lights, candles and the horror movie made the evening all the more memorable. I was young; just a teenager with all of my life ahead of me. There we were -- staying up way past our bedtime and living our lives to the fullest.

Sure, Monopoly and a horror movie doesn't seem like a very edgy experience, but I was thirteen years old and away from home. It was about as edgy as I got at the time.

I think back to that night often. It's not like anything special happened. We were just kids playing a board game and watching a horror movie. But, maybe that's the point. The mood from that evening was far more important than anything else. Teenage angst and anticipation were in the air. On that evening, the membrane separating the real world from the phantasmal was just a little bit thinner. We were vulnerable. We were turning into adults.

Every time I think about that night, I get goosebumps. I can still feel how I felt that night -- a little bit scared, a little bit restless.

We never finished the game of Monopoly. By the time early morning rolled around, we each started to doze off. One by one, we all retreated to our beds for the night. Just before I went to bed, I can recall standing there in the living room alone and turning the lights off; the last to go to sleep. One by one, the candles went out. Down to the basement I went, with only the orange glow of a bathroom light to guide my way past the stairs. The memory falls into darkness.

If you're reading this Dale, I hope you're well. I miss the time we spent together. Though us growing up seemed to get in the way, you'll always be someone I looked up to. Thanks for that.

You Can Pick And Choose Your Family.

Freedom From Want -- Norman Rockwell, 1943

Famed author Harper Lee wrote in To Kill a Mockingbird...

"You can choose your friends but you sho' can't choose your family, an' they're still kin to you no matter whether you acknowledge 'em or not, and it makes you look right silly when you don't."

Harper Lee couldn't have been farther from the truth.

Family goes beyond whom you share a blood relation with. Life isn't about predefined boundaries with some people being your kin and some being your friends; some your enemies and some strangers. If you step back and look at the big picture, we're all technically related as the one giant family that is the human race.

So no, sharing a blood relation isn't enough to qualify someone as family -- at least in my opinion.

You can pick and choose your family. Your family is whom you surround yourself with. A friend can be closer than a sibling. A nanny can be closer than your own parent. The support group that enriches and improves your life is your family. Alternatively, people whom you might share an immediate blood relation with could be wholly destructive and detrimental to your well-being. These people are not your family. The sooner you accept this fact, the better off you'll be.

Often times, we want to organize people into specific roles within our family. This person is my mother. This person is my sister. This person is my nephew. I find great fault in this. Being a part of a family isn't solely about filling a certain niche. It's an all-or-nothing scenario in my experience -- either you're in, or you're out. Family... not family... it's that simple.

Think about the people you love the most in this world. Do those people return your affection and make a difference in your life? Good... then that is your family. Hell, this goes beyond human beings, even. My two dogs, Mellow and Echo, mean the world to me; they are part of my family. I know I'm going to be devastated when my dogs pass away. It'll be as if I have lost a dear family member because I will be losing a family member.

Believe it or not, family is important to me. I'm deeply loyal to my family, appearances be damned. Yet, my family isn't some alley bar where everyone can come in for a drink. Instead, I treat my family like a highly exclusive social club. The membership isn't open to just anyone. You have to meet certain requirements and I simply must know you're in it for the long haul. Being "related" to me (whatever the hell that means) doesn't make you family.

Being a part of my family makes you family -- nothing more, nothing less.

Notes From The Road, Part II

Hello everyone! I'm still traveling and away from home. I spent this morning in the company of horses and shoveling their manure.

No, literally... I was shoveling horse manure.

This definitely wasn't a bad thing, though. It's a great workout and gives you a sense of accomplishment. After that, I visited with more family, then promptly took a satisfying swim. The heat has been unbearable recently, so the swim was really pleasant.

As of now, I'm spending the evening with my brother. Beers have been ingested. Steaks have been eaten. Oh, what a wonderful day.

Yours from the road,

Jared

Notes From The Road, Part I

Hello readers,

I'm away from home visiting with family today. It's quite nice to step away from the sun-baked piedmont of North Carolina and visit... well, the sun-baked tidewater region of Virginia. I got to see plenty of turkeys and chickens today, as well as some sheep and goats. Spending time with farm animals is relaxing, honestly. They don't demand anything from you, other than food and petting, of course. If only the same could be said of most people.

Tomorrow, I'll be traveling north towards Richmond to visit with more family. In the recent visits I've taken to the River City, I have noticed how many areas are experiencing a degree of revitalization. Good for Richmond, I say.

Writing to you from the road,

Jared

Shall We Play A Game?

No sentient computers hell-bent on world destruction were harmed in the composition of this blog.

Today's article is really more of an open dialogue for the friends and family in my life. I have an idea to run by you. Perhaps you'll like it, perhaps you won't. Either way, your feedback is encouraged.

Every year, I try to host my family and friends for a barbecue feast. It's nothing too fancy, but it fills our bellies and provides the opportunity for some much needed comradery. I always look forward to the event. With the weather now warm and the Spring allergy season over, I believe the time is right. This year, though; I was thinking about doing something a little bit different. Let's not just have a family meal...

What if we had an all-day Monopoly tournament?

My siblings will remember our rousing games of Monopoly when we were young. I can recall just how often Josh seemed to win -- he has a knack for slinging real estate and making deals. Why not continue the tradition? The deluxe edition of Monopoly can accommodate up to ten players. Should we have more than ten people participating, teams could be drawn. There would be no actual money involved -- we would play for glory. Because Monopoly has the potential to go on for a long time, we can set a time limit. Should more then one player or team still be solvent upon reaching the time limit, play will stop. Those players/teams will tally up their total assets, with the champion having the highest value.

Best of all, a trophy will be awarded to the victor. You'll have a whole year of bragging rights.

So, what do you think? Good idea? Have a different game in mind? Bounce some ideas off of me.

National Siblings Day - What My Siblings Mean To Me.

Together for James' birthday - 2006

Being that today is National Siblings Day, I thought I'd take a moment to recognize my two younger brothers and younger sister. They represent so much love, joy and happiness in my life. Without them, my life would have drastically less meaning and I'd be a much different person. To better express how I feel about each of my siblings, I'll use a single word to illustrate what they mean to me.

Perseverance - My brother Joshua doesn't understand the concept of giving up. He's a fighter, through and through. When the chips are down and friends are hard to find, he'll be there to lend a hand. No task is too big for him to overcome. No matter the odds, he'll make sure the mission is complete. He's the type of guy you want heading up a team -- Optimus Prime in the flesh. I'd trust Joshua to lead me anywhere.

Integrity - When it comes to sticking by your principles and being honest across the board, James fits the bill exactly. He might not have the most popular perspective on things, but his opinions are usually the most fair and righteous. He's a raven in a flock of doves -- the one element no one expects to add a much needed counterpoint. I respect James for the man he has become -- dependable, compassionate and not afraid to say what he thinks.

Spirit - It's undeniable; my sister Julie is a firecracker with a zest for life. She isn't afraid to give you her opinion. She'll bend over backwards to help a friend in need and add a little spice while she's doing it. Julie is a rare individual who breaks away from the norm. Fun and flair are always in order. If you're in need of a vibrant, feisty young woman with a no-quit attitude, Julie is the perfect candidate.

The above photos were all taken in 1997. It's amazing how much these three wonderful kids have grown up since then. I'm such a lucky guy -- I got to see them develop and mature each and every step of the way. That's something no one will ever be able to take away from me... and I'm a better man for it.

An Open Letter to Lunenburg County, Virginia.

My blog this evening will be a deviation in tone from the standard articles I normally publish. Those of you who have read my blog since the beginning will recognize the ire I'm about to share. For my newer readers... buckle up.

Broad Street, Kenbridge, VA -- A road to nowhere

To the Residents of Lunenburg County,

I had an in-depth discussion with my ever-so charming sister yesterday. She informed me of a particularly troubling situation, one that many of my readers in Southside Virginia will understand the context of. Apparently, there's an issue with the local community of which my siblings and I grew up -- Lunenburg County. I feel the need to clear the air. There is a terribly inaccurate narrative of what tore the Manning family apart -- one that's been largely fabricated by my father.

Our family imploded after a series of events following the death of our mother, Joyce. It was a long time coming, but her passing was the final nail in the coffin. After years of strife, physical and emotional abuse, it all finally came to a head. A few months following Joyce's passing, my sister and father were in a heated argument in which he physically assaulted her. I know this for a fact because I spoke with my father afterwards via telephone and he admitted as much to me. This was not the first time my father has physically harmed one of his family members (myself, my sister, my mother, etc.) -- long time readers of this blog are well aware of this fact. My sister ran away in fear for her life, only to be largely ignored by social services and the police within the community. Why? Because my father has keenly developed a cult of personality, one in which he is never wrong and always the hero of the story. Since that time, there has been no relationship maintained between my father and sister, nor has there been a relationship between him and I.

The aforementioned phone call, where he admitted fault, took place on December 27, 2011. It was approximately 10 PM in the evening. That was the last time my father and I spoke. We've had no contact since that point. During that phone call, my father talked of setting his children on fire if he wished -- they were his property to do with as he pleased. He clearly did not like the harsh judgment I levied against him, considering by the end of the conversation he hung up on me. How ironic... he hung up on me in our final telephone call; I hung up on his entire existence for the rest of my life. As far as I am concerned, he's just as dead to me as my mother. I spent nearly two years expunging my anger and grief over our relationship right here on this very blog. I'm not angry at him anymore -- I'm just disappointed at how ghastly a person he is, considering his inherent potential. There was a good man inside my father at one point; that man is now gone.

This entire story relates to the experiences my sister faced when she recently returned to the Lunenburg County area for a visit with a dear friend (you know who you are -- thank you for always being there for Julie). She encountered multiple instances of public scrutiny and rude comments from strangers whom believe they know our father. Apparently, the previously mentioned false narrative has floated around that my sister betrayed our family; that she spread lies about our father beating on her. This is just not true. Everything she has stated about her experiences is accurate. The Manning Family exists as a fractured mirror -- one that reflects the deep seeded agony of a family burdened by poverty, poor parental choices, jealousy, infidelity, avarice and a cycle of abuse that goes as far back as the Mannings have been in this nation. My friends, I come from a family of turmoil. The name that I carry is one I'm not necessarily proud of, but I aim to make it as decent as possible in my time. There will be no more Mannings to carry on this name, though. We are done. I'll burden no child with the sorrowful weight that this family has to offer. Out of all the vast Manning family children, grandchildren and cousins, myself and my two brothers are the last in line to actually bear the surname. I have no children. My brothers have no children. The nefarious blood of our family tree, which at one point was quite wide with many branches, will die with our generation. An entire family name shall be wiped out... and no one will shed as much as a tear.

Now, I speak to you, the well established families of the Kenbridge, Victoria and various other Lunenburg communities. You are well aware of who you are -- the family names that have circulated in Southside Virginia for an eternity; the Lunenburg Royalty, for lack of a better term. You consider yourselves to be the elite of the community -- the same ones whom cast glances of contempt at my sister, whom allow my father to continue his fantasy. Yet, here I am to tell you what few others will -- you are hollow, inept clumps of snobbish detritus. Just as I faced ridicule and scrutiny by your kind as I was growing up, you now turn an undeservedly judgmental eye upon my sister.

No -- you shall not do this without consequence. You will be publicly castigated.

You serve no other purpose than to continue the cycle of drama in your little fish bowl called Lunenburg. Never have I been so abashed of a community of people. And to think, many of you wonder why I left the area as soon as I possibly could. I despise most of you -- many of whom I attended Lunenburg County Public Schools with. Look at what you have become... pathetic excuses for human beings who couldn't handle the outside world. Many of you returned to Lunenburg after college. Why? What was the point of seeking a higher education, only to return home and not use it? Did you like being a big fish in a small pond? Did you like the comfort of an illusionary life? Or, did you just lie to yourself and say it was for the best? In the end, it doesn't matter. Instead of writing your own story, you've chosen to continue the stage play acted out by your parents, your grand-parents, and so on. You're all calamitous fools who couldn't see past the end of your own dirt roads and driveways. I'd pity you if I didn't think you were such deplorable scum.

I am deeply, deeply ashamed of what you, the Lunenburg County populace, represents.

Lunenburg -- You're a small town atmosphere filled with narcissistic ants, swarming over every little piece of gossip you can. You're the type of folks that hang out at Lunenburg Country Club and think you're powerful titans of industry. You eat at Mildred's Meals and believe your derriere has the scent of roses. You yearn over Timmy Dogs and the K-V Dispatch. You take skiing trips with your hunting club. You watch Charger football and kissed the rump of a certain bloated, clique-friendly coach. You go to your houses of worship on Sunday and stab your friends in the back on Monday. You form self-serving networks within the local fire, rescue and police departments for your own benefit.

You are everything that disgusts me about small town life.

Of note, there are some wonderful, compassionate people in Lunenburg County who have always been kind to me and my family. Just to name two that immediately stand out in my mind -- Jean Kunath (who always encouraged me to be artistic and treated me like an adult) and the departed Roberta Rickers (who inspired me at a very early age to treasure books and writing). I haven't forgotten what they did for me. I am very thankful. Without their influence on my creativity, I probably wouldn't write this blog day in and day out.

I've stated my peace. If the entirety of Lunenburg County was obliterated by a meteorite tomorrow, I'd breathe a sigh of relief. Good riddance.

You're not my home town, nor will you ever be.

Sincerely,
Jared Manning

The 2014 Family Christmas Party.

Just wanted to take a quick moment this evening to thank everyone for coming to the family Christmas party. Josh, Niki, Brandon, James, Julie, Crystal... thanks for making my Christmas so much more awesome. Without you guys, my life wouldn't mean much of anything. Being able to celebrate the holidays with you means more than you know.

Many gifts were exchanged. Much alcohol was consumed. Lots of food was eaten. It was a fantastic afternoon with great mirth and merriment, not one I'll soon forget.

Be safe in your travels over the course of the holiday. Until we can meet again...