Category Archives: America

Christmas in Short

A Cheesy Christmas Poem from Mississippi Because There aren’t many.

By Justin and Alicia McCreary

It’s Christmas day in shorts
Because I live here in Mississippi

It’s Christmas day in shorts
No smoke going up the chimney

But still the lights adorn the house
And comfy outside is the mouse

Where the mosquitoes fly to and fro
and my Christmas sweater does not go

For tee-shirts and shorts to enjoy cornbread dressing
Barbecue pork my shirt up, is messing

Sweet potato pie, and brisket to boast
Black eyed peas and a visit from the holy ghost

Then afternoon comes and we turn the AC
Because of the meat sweats while we watch TV

Holiday movies we’ve all seen before
Oh look some deviled eggs, I think I’ll have more.

Wait did aunt Peggy just bring Oyster Dressing
And when did this gumbo show up I was missing.

I suspect I am full, but I can have a little bit more
After pecan pie, and collard greens comes napping I’m sure.

We’ve moved all the folding chairs, borrowed from church
And we’re napping and napping, and yawning…. (Snore Sound)

Wait what was I doing? I think I’ll have another slice of pie!

And then we take leftovers in sacks from Piggly Wiggly.
Where did this Jello come from so jiggly.

And then as we leave we stand in the driveway
as another hour passes and goodbye we say.

Because Christmas down here seldom has snow
But in the heat, and mosquitos there’s love that we show.

Love baked in treats, and savory foods
Love in the hearts, in the souls and the moods.

Because Christmas down here is different than songs
For Christmas in Shorts, never goes wrong.

Ramblings From the Black Creek Trail, Mississippi

Black Creek Trail Sign: that is my finger in the lower right hand corner… GoPro’s are small.

I thought it important, to sit down and write my thoughts before they become too distant from my current state.

I completed a thru-hike of the Black Creek Trail just south of Hattiesburg Mississippi outside of a little town called Brooklyn. I have to admit, the hike didn’t start the way I’d hoped, and some of the emotional struggles were not part of my planning. We started late, we had later starting times every day and I was in constant fear of not finishing. On every crossing and every hole, I saw the opportunity for failure with a twisted ankle, a slip, and at one point a bite from a diamondback rattler. But I finished, I finished with the original members of my party. Even through much disagreement and frustration with each other we crossed the finish line together, we did that because we committed to one another silently, that when we started this journey we would end it together.

This snake looked me in the eyes and told me to stop complaining.

I remember while hiking the trail thinking, “I feel miserable, and I wish I’d never started.” On the last day while we were heading toward my car (to which I now call, My Blue Heaven) every step felt as though, in the moment my foot hit the ground, a hammer hit the bottom of my foot. The blisters tell me that I am not ready for an Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike, the pain from my feet tell me that I have more work to do. And in the moment, I ask, “Is this even worthwhile, coming out to hike just trying to get home?”

However, the problem with deciding “to never do this again,” while on the trail is, that feeling pales, in hindsight, to the feeling of finishing, the feeling of euphoria that drives me to get into these “messes,” in the first place. The problem is, now I know I can hike 13 miles in a day, and I know the peace of sleeping next to a rushing river in the cold.

When I came home last night I sat quietly in front of an off television and a computer that had yet to be turned on. My mind clearer than it had been in a long time. I sat and looked my record player considering playing a record, but then remembering the silence of the wilderness. My phone that had been off for 4 days now sprung to life, and with every beep and message I was afraid I would lose the peace of not knowing what to do next. But I didn’t lose that peace… at least, not yet…

 

I understand why many philosophers and physicians agree that nature can be helpful to stress. Because in the wilderness the concern is not a board meeting, a financial report, or a reading list, it’s practicing the necessary self-care to simply, “Get to the next campsite.” By the last night, sleeping in the woods, I began to dream again. The night would fly by, I wouldn’t wake up multiple times, I had worn myself out during the day, and was in a tech blackout, the only light was from the campfire built by our camping guru, and the stars reminding us how small we are.

 

Left to Right
Paul, Micah, Justin

We all had our purpose on the hike, the peacemaker, the naturalist, and me, the logistician. I knew the map of the trail and had done more research than necessary but even in that time had forgotten the map of the human heart. Micah did that. While Paul made sure every sight in which we slept was warm and comfortable.

Today I sit on the far end of a goal I set for myself three years ago when I began to get healthy. I spent three years, the planner I am, gathering gear, reading trail guides and searching for partners, but now that day is over. Life in the modern world calls me. I hope I can carry this peace for a week before I am back to the ball of anxiety that everyone knows and love.

But even if I can’t, today I know peace, and that makes the misery of wilderness worthwhile.

Black Creek Trail, Brooklyn Mississippi

Mississippi Fall

I can feel it in my gut, that muggy air
As my tires kiss the road beneath me

The oppressive wrench, like a blanket
as my mouth bites that, which was once beneath my tires

I can’t see you, but I hear… You call for my stillness
You seek to shackle me against that which I don’t belong

Your knee in my back you quiet me…
My eyes down making no contact

My arms are still in the wind, but nothing helps
As the sweat runs down my body…

I fear in my distance that I should never see my home again
I fear in my heart those I love will see me gone

But I make it home, because my path is Straight
and I am White in my iniquities like a Mississippi Snow.

On Patriotism

Last week my family and I went to see the new Captain America movie. I had to admit going into the movie that Captain America had never been one of my favorite superheroes and the first movie didn’t really move me very much. For me, Captain America represented a kind of nationalism that made me uncomfortable. I saw only this idea that we could point to a place in our history and say, “Those were the good old days.” I can’t help but consider my frustration that nationalism, masquerading as patriotism, is causing more problems than it is fixing. Living in a part of the country that is often referred to as “real” or “the most patriotic” America, I met the movie at first with great trepidation. I had heard good things. However, if I couldn’t get a better ideal from being American than the one purported by those who historically defended slavery and segregation by religious means, I feared I would have to leave the theater. I was surprised by this movie and the feeling I had after the movie–adulation.

Growing up surrounded by stagnant conservatives, I was often berated for being un-American. I was considered many things, but patriot was not one of them. As a proponent of many “questionable” ideals, I found that I didn’t fit in with most of my friends. Even in my childhood we lived in a polarized United States. I grew up in that polarization, and it seems that our country’s polarization has gotten worse. I remember once as a young adult being asked, “If you don’t like living here, why don’t you leave?” I have always struggled with pejorative questions, and this one wasn’t any easier for me to answer. In the end, I had to realize that question (as it was presented) could not be answered. The fact was then and is now, I love living here. I love being an American. I think this country was founded on good principles. These principles, however, were bestowed upon us by human beings like me–imperfect.

As a child I was taught that, knowing their own imperfection, our founding forebears created the Constitution of the United States of America, and this Constitution was to be a living document that would grow and evolve as it needed to. I still believe that. It is for that reason I believe that I am a patriot.

I believe my friends often mistook my willingness to speak in opposition to the “American” perspective (met with my extremely uncritical attitude toward other countries) as betrayal. If I thought Europe was doing something better, I wasn’t American. If I thought we should look at an example from Japan, I was unpatriotic. If I questioned the oligarchy of the American dollar, I was a communist. If I called into question actions committed by those in power in regard to racial, religious, or classist bias, I was simply full of crap. I thought then as I do now that we must critically look into our own actions so we can become better. We need not cloud our vision with bias but build a country and a world with a just vision–a vision of things to come.

Unitarian Universalists are believers in the democratic process–in fact, so much that we have embedded it into our 5th principle:

The right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and in society at large.

We are a people who are vocal and active in our country. During Sunday service, the announcement portion often lets us know of many opportunities to be part of the changing landscape. At least once a year we are given the opportunity to stand on a soap box and proclaim to the masses (at least the ones who come to the service that day) our message to the world. I know when I come to the UU church I can find someone who will answer my question about registering to vote or how I can be part of a social justice movement. Every Sunday morning I get the opportunity to fellowship with very informed people serving a goal of peace, liberty, and justice for all (6th principle). I can’t help but wonder if one Sunday I might come in to see Steve Rogers counted within our role.