A decorative placard hung over one tent and announced the name of the tailgate space: The Pine’s Box. Each tent panel alternated red and blue and featured the cartoonish image of Ole Miss’ defunct mascot - Colonel Reb. The school had officially abandoned the image, but he was still plenty visible around The Grove, dressed like an old cotton planter on his way to a formal Sunday supper. Red suit. Ribbon tie. Cane. Wide brimmed hat cocked atop his head. One arm hidden behind his back, probably holding a coiled whip. 


Auburn’s new athletic director recently gave a radio interview where he discussed, with the usual bland buzzwords, his quest to begin a legacy. A prosperous tenure will require a coach’s scalp for his coup stick, a big trophy, or a new wing of the cathedral to appease the faithful. Smartly, he singled out the small, archaic scoreboard atop the much-maligned north endzone of Jordan-Hare Stadium for this triumphant feat. Out with the old. In with the new…

The Waffle House in Batesville, Mississippi looked like any other Waffle House; a yellow shoebox surrounded by an entangled mess of power lines, gas stations, and budget motels. Though an outsider, it seemed to me the South had traded the uniqueness of its charm for the monotony of convenience, making it difficult to identify the subtle yet crucial distinctions within the deeply revered and equally monotonous restaurant chain. I placed my trust in my friend…

The day begins at 4:35am when the alarm on my wife’s phone blares. Within 15 minutes she has left for her workout. The espresso machine is warm. A single shot and I'm ready, poised at my writer’s desk beneath the shadow of dawn with only the feintest of hangovers. Last night, I had a captivating idea – Slovakia and a kept promise…