A Life Doing for Others

My grandmother wanted no obituary. No funeral. She never wanted to be the center of attention.

She spent her life never having her way. She did for everyone else, and never had any semblance of control or agency.

She wanted to be cremated, buried in her favorite purse, and have her family go to her favorite restaurant together. Order a plate of her favorite food and leave it at the table for her. And that’s what we gunna do.

So, in her death, she finally gets her way. This will not be an obituary. An obit involves names, and those left behind, and arrangements and shit. And plus…I know why she hated obits. Its always rubbing your accolades in someone’s face…at least it always felt that way for her. “So and so was well respected by the business community…member of the rotary club…etc.”

She hated that shit. So, this will not be an obit.


I would be remis if I didn’t share just a few stories. The things I will always remember. So, maybe I am hijacking elements of an obit, but…..I just feel like this has to come out of me or I will lose my mind.

For most of my childhood, my maw maw drove a 80s Monte Carlo. She had only one Maxwell Cassette. She played that cassette till the tape ran down to nothing. I still know all those songs by heart. I will intersperse these stories with some key tracks.

As discussed at length, high school was rough for me. I spent the good portion of it with what I know now to be depression. I would mope around and listen to nu-metal all day every day.

One day, I am coming home from school, and I assume something happened. Something always did. I had my head hung low and slumped into the house. Maw maw would always have some kind of dinner for us. Sometimes it would be showing up a few hours after we got home, but for things like a roast, she would be at the house cooking already.

She looks at me skulk in, and yells at full volume “STAND TALL BOY AND BE PROUD. You do so well in school, and you gunna go to a good college. Be proud. You’ve done a lot.”

I’ll never forget it.

My maw maw’s house was the neutral zone. When there was strife or conflict in the family, it would fade away at her house. Mostly cause she never stood for that shit. If you were going to have a fight, you better get the fuck out of her house and have it.

That makes it sound too aggressive. She just wanted her house to be a place where anyone could go.

What sticks in my mind was halloween. By the time we got too old to trick or treat, we felt like we had nothing to do on halloween. And typically, I didn’t get along with my brothers friends. But at maw maw’s house, that was always different.

I can’t remember how it started, but we started doing halloween night at my maw maw’s. Maybe its because she lived on the busiest street in the area, so it was the street you would go to for trick or treat anyway. Who knows. But, we had all kinds of great junk food. Chili cheese fritos. Homemade mac and cheese. Grilled hot dogs. And we played SNES or watched horror movies on cable all night.

We did that for years, cause that recreation room at my maw maw’s house was magic.

If I needed something, my maw maw was there. She never had money, but she had a workers ethic. If she couldn’t do it herself, she would have paw paw do it.

One time, maw maw and paw paw came to my house in college. Brought me some frozen gumbo and spaghetti sauce. Helped me fix up some things in that fucking shithole. Paw paw sees some wine bottles I had on top of the fridge. I had started to go to vineyards and what not. Getting into wine

“I didn’t know you liked wine…ok…”

The next time they visit the apartment, paw paw gives me a clear glass two liter filled with this BLACK liquid.

“This is that good black cherry bath tub wine that my friend makes…”

I smelled it, and it smelled like fucking death. Like you could get rust of a car bumper with it.

Cut to me moving out. We are packing up my stuff, and the only wine bottle left is the wine bottle my paw paw brought me. My maw maw is packing up things in my bedroom, and paw paw and I are in the kitchen. Paw paw turns to me and says, “Oh you dont want any of this good black cherry wine?”

Without missing a beat, maw maw, who SOMEHOW heard it, yells at the top of her lungs.


I cried I was laughing so hard.

I did see her one last time this week. She looked bad. Leukemia. She must have been hiding it. Never wanted treatment. Was on oxygen. Bedridden. Her arms look like she got in a fucking fight. Bruises everywhere.

But that visit. Was like the calls we shared every Thursday evening. Talked about all kind of stuff. Life. The old days. Like nothing happened. She was in really good spirits. After I told her I loved her, my last words were “I’m gunna see you tomorrow”

My dad thought he messed up having me come down and that maw maw was going to be fine.

She was dead 5 hours later.

That’s how it happens I suppose.

The biggest blessing I can give is that at least she didn’t linger like that. When it was her time to go, she punched the clock.

I’ll miss her. She was the one who raised me up. I didn’t have a ton of people in my family who advocated for me. My maw maw always did. “Chase that dream” she would say constantly. She was the ONLY person in the family who thought academics mattered more than sports. She told me my graduation was the proudest moment of her life.

So here is my suggestion. Go get some good shit to eat and drink. Enjoy it. Celebrate. That’s what my maw maw would have wanted. So my suggestion to you congregation is to celebrate. She had a life well lived and has moved on to the next journey.

Thoughts from the AMEN Pew #52

More shit. More shame. More liquor.

Well, one aspect of the current trends hit my way. Without going into too much detail, it is a rough time to be gainfully employed at large.

I was having this discussion with my wife last night. When I was growing up, I do not remember this much turmoil. Maybe it is a matter of privilege, but things felt…..I dunno, stable. My parents both had the same job for the entirety of my beginning life, from birth to college.

And I assumed, cause I was trying to do better than they would that my life would be on easy street. Just work, retire, death.

I think our whole generation doesn’t get to live in times of any kind of comfort. I can only hope that things even out by the time my kids gets out of college, but at the rate shit is going, it ain’t looking good hoss.

Alot of moaning and gnashing of teeth out there for Diablo Immortal. There will be a blog in a few weeks when I get there, but I wanted to share a preliminary hot take.

I’m around level 45 right now. 60 is the cap. I playing it off and on, when I can. No grinding. Definitely not paying one red dime….If I can beat the final boss in the campaign without spending money, I mean……you know what. Bully. Sounds good to me.

Oh also, no matter how much you whinge, Blizz already won. We discussed this. They gunna make so much fucking money. The war is over. You lost. And blizz will cash your tears straight to the fucking bank.

So, I watched The Northman. Intelligent motherfuckers said everything that needs to be said (see below), but someone asked me for my thoughts, so here they are. Its fine. I think its Eggers worst movie. Like I get what he is going for, the anti-bro, anti-revenge revenge epic. But its like….they spent too much money on it to make his point. The revenge looks too good, and the fucked up parts aren’t fucked up enough.

Don’t get me wrong, I dont hate it, I am just really meh on it. I doubt I will watch it again.

Someone asked me this week to describe how I am feeling right now in one word.

I said “pain.”

I got a new thing I fucking hate. My wife has gotten into this…brand…I dont know how to describe it. There are books and a show now….called The Home Edit.

Here is the issue I have with all home organization concepts. These people must not live. Like they must not live their life. Or they are rich enough to fucking afford someone following around them to clean up their shit.

Cause yeah, I get it. What they set up looks nice.

You ever had a kid? Or fuck that. Are you like me and are just a fucking slob? I don’t have the energy to fucking maintain a instagram level aesthetic. I would rather just eat cheetos, drink, and fart all over my house.

When the revolution comes, we eating these people too.

Well to make the shame that is this week complete, I have been bested by my own flesh and blood at Smash. With me playing my main no less.

Yep. Shame is complete. Life is not worth living. Existence is bullshit. Hopefully we are all still alive next week, and there will be more preaching.

Find a reason to go on I guess? I know I am still looking for it.

No Exit (Storytime)

“What do you mean the neighbor is throwing a party?”

End of the school year for the elementary kids, so the neighbor decided to throw a party for them. The only problem is that I was picking my son up from school and driving straight to the bayou. Getting there late at night as it was.

‘Look, just go spend 30 min over there, have him eat some ice cream, and then hit the road’

Well, they didn’t start for 30 min after I got him home. So we sat around for that. And then we went over…

It turned out to be about 15-20 kids, all of their moms. And me. And they were in no rush.

My son ran off to go play, and I was stuck there. With these moms who knew each other and me.




The moms are having conversations about the minutiae of how much they are involved in their kids lives. Programs they were sorting out for the summer. Clothing size issues.

The only conversation that wasn’t related to the kids was a discussion about how important their ministry was to them and that they were spending the summer “focused on spreading Christ’s love.”

Another mom had a giant mug that just read “Single Drunk Female”

After the first 30 min, the neighbor was like, “…Well, I could introduce you to the other moms…” And I said, “I feel like this information is on a need-to-know basis, and I do not think I need-to-know.”

We don’t talk about Bruno….


No no no…

In No Exit, Sartre says “Hell is other people.” I think its not just that hell is in fact being around other people, its that other people’s way of living is someone else’s hell.

This was my hell. And it was clear I did not fit in. I mean I was past the point of trying to make the most of it. Every minute I spent surrounded by someone’s poorly charged Alexa, a bubble maker, ducking as kids throwing shit, and ice cream, was a minute I was going to have to drive into the night to get to the destination.

I have been told before that people read my blogs wondering “What common joy does The Right Reverend irrationally hate today.” Maybe this is true.

Here’s the thing, I would have been fine with this on a normal day. Cause I would have sent my kid over there….10 or so moms, I like my chances that my son would have emerged from the party unscathed. And I would have headed back to the hole from which I would have never left.

But oh no. I already had anxiety on how this whole trip would go down, the last fucking thing I needed was to pull the band-aid off as slowly as possible.

To be clear, my son was oblivious to the misery. He was happy to be with his friends, run full laps around the neighbors house, and eat their ice cream.

Also, he was some how the most behaved of the bunch. The other kids were throwing stuff, loudly complaining, being destructive, and mines was just happy to be there.

After a full fucking hour passed, I figured I had paid enough respects and pulled my son away.

My neighbor told me on the way out, “I knew we would get you not to leave on time.” I said, “Mission accomplished” and walked away. My son politely thanked everyone and followed along.

We did make it to our destination that night, after driving through a pile of poorly timed storms.

At the end of the day, it was the right thing to do. I purposely set up the circumstances in my life to allow my son to have the normal childhood that I didn’t have. And that included neighborhood parties.

I just fucking wish I didn’t have to deal with the socializing of it all.

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