Skip to main content

The Things I Carried



The Things I Carried
Essay excerpt from 2006

“Even now, I’ll admit, the story makes me squirm. For [some time] I’ve had to live with it, feeling shame, trying to push it away, and so by this act of remembrance, by putting the facts down on paper, I’m hoping to relieve at least some of the pressure on my dreams. All of us, I suppose, like to believe that in a moral emergency we will behave like the heroes of our youth, bravely and forthrightly, without thought of personal loss or discredit. Certainly that was my conviction back in the summer of 1968.” The Things They Carried -Tim O’Brien

     I took my purse, cell phone, the house keys, my iPod, and three outfits, including the one I left the house with. Little did I know that these few things would be the only things I owned for the next few weeks. As the day went, the sun embraced the sky with an ironic presence of charm and allure, unknowing of the following day, which would erupt in the madness of an extraordinary disaster. The strange assortment of the music on my iPod kept me comforted through many excruciating hours on the road as I traveled from one anonymous city to another. As I finally settled into the tremulous metropolis of Atlanta, I was constantly reminded of how my life had diminished into the things I carried. In the days following my escape, I remember thinking that I had lost everything; although I had taken CD’s and the most important of my material items, I had left behind some of the most memorable possessions one could ever have. I immediately thought of all the trophies and plaques I had received. I had images of them floating away in the intensifying toxic waters of the Big Easy. I pictured my baby photos and music compositions dissolving into the waste that had infiltrated my home. I had lost everything! But in the months following Hurricane Katrina, I realized that all I was and all that I would ever become lay within me; I discovered that the things I carried weren’t things after all—they were emotions, memories, and dreams. They were the types of things that grew into me, and I into them. Life had abruptly begun for me and the things I carried would transform me forever.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A Call to Slowdown

On March 30, 2017, I wrote a caption under a picture I posted of me preaching my very first public sermon in James Chapel at Union Theological Seminary in the City of New York. The sermon was entitled, “I Have an Issue of Blood.” To my surprise, at the end of my moment of sermonic exploration – what was originally supposed to be a spoken word piece but quickly grew into something beyond my wildest imagination – I got a standing ovation. It was… odd . I thought to myself, “Why are these people standing and clapping for me? I’m not a preacher.” Folks came up to me after to convey their appreciation for the message. Someone in the congregation shared a picture they took of me. I posted it on Instagram and Facebook the next day with the caption: “I sometimes feel like there's a person running ahead of me—the person that God is calling me to be—and I'm running behind her trying to catch up as she runs faster and faster. And I don't know where's she's going but I know i...
1 comment
Read more

Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake

  Cracked Eggs, Nerf Guns, and the Murder of Karon Blake At the time of my writing this, I am sitting in my big chair, staring at my front window from inside the house, looking at the drippings that have stained the glass from the eggs that some neighborhood kids hurled at my window almost two weeks ago. They were mad at me (I suppose) because they came to steal another package off my front porch in December, but they did not know that it was a package I’d planted with a note inside. I had them on camera stealing several packages on my block during the winter break, including one of mine that contained dog food (I know they were disappointed when they opened that one up ha!). Instead of calling the police or posting their faces on the many neighborhood apps, I decided to take an old amazon box, place a note inside, retape it and leave it on the porch. The note read: “God loves you. I care about you. Stop stealing packages. -Pastor Mac.” I wanted these 3 kids who look like the...
Post a Comment
Read more

For those of us who live in war zones

  For those of us who live in war zones right here in the US... who see the teens running inside "somebody shootin 'round da cornuh," they shout who see the kids just tryna work on their layups in beautiful 62 degree weather grab their balls and sprint for cover "what's alla that, man?" who see the young woman running downhill away from potential death away from her home who see the grandma get up from her post-church porch sit and crawl away from her peace and into her prison Nobody should live like this We are at war RIGHT HERE Everything is connected Liberation is a global pursuit For those of us who live in war zones I see you
Post a Comment
Read more