Well, ladies and gents, despite this being a year of too many foul subtractions, too much self-isolation, and a cluster bombed political landscape about as verdant as a WWI battlefield, this blog has enjoyed significant success, if you count success in the number of visitors who peeked in and the total number of hits registered on the site.
Perhaps, we can attribute this growth in readership to the old adage misery loves company.
At any rate, here’s a look backward at some of what I consider the worthiest posts. To revisit the posts, hit the highlighted word, which will transport you to the piece in its entirety. In January I was ignorant that old man contagion was hiding behind a tree laying (sic) in wait to throw at brick.Nevertheless, not realizing that many would turn to the solace of spirits (not to mention IPAs and spiked seltzers) in the coming months, prophetically I posted a pro-alcohol piece .
To counterbalance the somewhat positive with sort of negative, I also produced this piece on the great American songwriter Stephen Foster.
On February 15th, Caroline and I visited Mosquito Beach’s Island Breeze for the last time, not knowing it was the last time. Alas and Alack!
By 29 February, the virus was flourishing, so I published this enlightening expose on vultures.
The Charleston community lost a richly talented English teacher, a learned Charleston historian, and lovely human being, Erica Lesesne.
Also, my pal the poet Jason Chambers allowed me to read and record on of his compositions.
April is, as Eliot, put it, is the cruelest month, so I brought this post up from the dead land, the first post directly dealing with the pandemic.
My wife Caroline wrote this brilliant villanelle in memory of my first wife Judy Birdsong who died on Mother’s Day of 2017. There’s an audio clip of Caroline reading that accompanies the text of the poem.
I also bid farewell to Porter-Gaud’s Class of 2020 who lost out on the springtime rituals of severance they so richly deserved.
With the year half done, I came up with this pandemic parody of of William Ernest Henley’s “Invictus.”
In July, I began a series dedicated to my native town of Summerville. Here’s the most popular one that brings together two rather antithetical citizens of that once quaint village.
Not much going on in August. Here’s another one from the Summerville series chronicling my first night ever spent in a jail.
For some odd reason, I had death on my mind.
Another pandemic poem, this one on the wearing of masks.
With the election seemingly over, I posted this celebratory poem.
Also, here are a handful of videos celebrating George Alan Fox and Chico Feo’s Songwriters’ Soap Box Open Mike Extravaganza.
Ah, those lazy crazy deathly dangerous days of college.
Thanks to all of you who stop by and read the blog, especially my regulars, Rodney, Bill and Dana, Furman, Sue, Gary, and, of course, my siblings, and my loving, patient, and beautiful wife Caroline.
 With apologies to Ry Cooder