Henry Chappell

Column due today. Toil, toil, toil. Something on groundwater. Seemed like a hell of an idea when I pitched it to my long-suffering editor. Early this morning I sat in the dark, drinking coffee, wondering what could be written about aquifers that anyone but a masochist might want to read. A few sips into cup number four, the great Charles Bowden came to mind. Now the question is "What's left to say that Bowden didn't say perfectly and beautifully?" Then again, it helps to know what's possible.

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His voice is as deep as mine, but he's still a member of the selfie generation. Here, he caught The Old Man, his grandpap, unaware.

Taken this past Sunday afternoon by my grandson Cade. Yeah, we had a great hunt the next day. Cade and his sister Gracie caught a plane this morning. The best part of the season is over - unless they get to come back for a few days after Christmas. I'll be hunting and hoping.

A nice review of Silent We Stood in Southern Literary Review. I'm amazed that reviews are still coming out. I'm also amazed that SWS has been out for two years. The review is kind enough that I'll forgive the misspelling of my name.

My thanks to reviewer Donna Meredith! Here's a sample:

"Silent We Stood is no easy read, but it yields the pleasure of unraveling the threads of a complicated yarn. It is a testimony to the universal struggle of humans to find freedom, and the heroism of those who risk everything to ensure that liberty and justice for all is not simply an ideal but a reality."


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Ah, the warm glow of tribalism.