The boys’ faces glowed with excitement in the candlelight. The shade in the dining room was drawn, and the overhead lights turned down low. It was Sunday night; Scotty’s first week of kindergarten and Cartter’s seventh birthday were in the books; and we were celebrating. I could see my boys as clearly as ever, their…

Dear Elite, As I accelerate into the intersection at Shelmore Blvd. amid a throng of cars on Hwy. 17 carrying solitary drivers to work, I see my five-year-old’s face finally turn away and look toward his destination. He’s in the truck with his mother, on the way to kindergarten. I’m driving the van with his…

Dear Elite, Now that the languid summer season is upon us here in the lowcountry, with heat indexes approaching 110 and swim team’s season officially in the books, springtime’s urgent pomp and circumstance seem a distant memory. Back then we were schlepping the kids to and from school daily; contractors were all over the house;…

Dear Elite, There was a time in my life when I thought I was going to be an interpreter. At 24, led by a clueless belief in my Spanish language proficiency that was buoyed by my adult ESL students’ compliments, I found myself in the language lab at the College of Charleston, trying out for…

Dear Elite, Of all the subelite shit that Christians cling to (western society’s foundational values, conservative social norms, a divine power greater than elitism, etc.), the historical accuracy of the Bible has got to be the absolute dumbest, and never is this particular form of idiocy more on display than Easter season. I mean the…