childhood – Anthony Sadler

Fontana

The village is the reason I am a historian. It may even be the reason I am a writer. It got to a point for me where I couldn’t just visit the Smokies. I had to know more and tell others.

We all die a little bit every day. Some people, like my grandmother, commit suicide slowly. By the time I came around she was nearly gone. My whole life she struggled to breathe. I don’t remember what I called her, but her name was Doris. Maybe I called her grandma. I never called her granny.Continue reading “The Queen of North Street”

My Father, the Idiot

My father passed on April 13, 2018. The first draft of this was written the night I arrived in Tampa, out of fear, anger, sadness, and confusion.

Cracks in the Pavement

I am a child of broken people. I come from broken dreams, busted jars of over-processed cheese, tears, and psychotic accusations slung to and fro by people who had me to fill a void in their lives. Between my father’s anger and my mother’s psychosis, being a kid was hard to maintain. There are noContinue reading “Cracks in the Pavement”

Constant Life and Beauty

We are the projection of the perpetuated ideals of our parents, teachers, culture, religion, nation, and fears. Our view of nature is an aspect of the projection. It is programmable. Like a universal remote control, with the correct codes, our intended purpose can be fulfilled. It is no more natural for me to walk underContinue reading “Constant Life and Beauty”

A Backyard Wilderness

Some say wilderness is a concept. Wilderness is an ideal rather than a place. It is a projection of our inner desires. There are hundreds of definitions. Whether you know it or not, you have your own. Wilderness means something to you because A Wilderness matters to you. As a child, the wilderness was a giant grapefruitContinue reading “A Backyard Wilderness”