Looking back, looking forward

2018 was a monumental year for me, and I'm hoping 2019 will keep up the momentum. I don't have any big overall lessons or revelations, but I thought it would be helpful to list some of my 2018 highlights. Life events: The birth of my third child Monya who shares a birthday with Harry Potter. … Continue reading Looking back, looking forward

On Morning Pages and Self-discipline

I'm pretty bad at daily habits. Exhibit #1 is that my last public post on this blog was a book review from August 2016. I need to get better about this. I've been making my living with words for several years now, and between my paid gigs (mostly corporate telecom documentation) and my family life, … Continue reading On Morning Pages and Self-discipline

I almost got into an accident driving home from work this evening

The bridge on SC-20 heading toward Piedmont was icy, and the Jeep ahead of me braked and swerved. I had shifted down into third gear because I expected this, but my car started to swerve as well. I pumped my brakes and steered into the swerve and was able to regain enough control to stop … Continue reading I almost got into an accident driving home from work this evening

Untwisting Normal: The Power of Divorcing My Father

This is a beautiful meditation on what it’s like to grow up with violently abusive parents. I was quite surprised to find that it was written by the local news anchorman I’d seen on TV for over a decade. Thank you Michael for having the courage to share your story with the world!

Michael Cogdill

What some parents don’t want to remember their children can’t forget.

I’ve turned fifty, yet the child within me can’t help but remember.

In a small house in Arden, North Carolina in 1964, my mother tried to wake my father from a deep nap on the living room couch. Beer likely fueled that nap. I would soon learn even one or two lubed the gears of violence within that beautiful man.

But I was too young to know that then. I was a little past three years old. This ranks as my first memory of childhood.

My dad sprang from the couch, straddled and pinned my mother to the floor, and beat her so hard with his open hand her head thundered off the hardwood. She fought him, hard. Screamed for him to stop. I joined her. My cries fused with hers from where I stood, no more than six…

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