If you're looking for a writer to aggregate content, regurgitate press releases, or deify pundits, I'm not the one. If you're looking for a writer to spew statistics, quote jargon, and bill by the hour, well, that's not me either.
If you want to know how people feel, what they think, and who they are, I might be your writer. If you want a seasoned journalist who prefers to be in the field instead of behind a desk, someone equally skilled with both pen and camera, someone who keeps a suitcase packed and notebook ready, I might be your writer. If you want a journalist who is a native Southerner — who understands its people, knows its terrain, remembers its past and cares about its future — I might be your writer.
Because if it's people you want to reach, I'm all in. And if you've got a story, you've got my interest. Email me today.
Modern Nashville, Tenn., exudes both a trendy and traditional ethos. It has a relaxed, yet professional atmosphere that appeals to young people. The cost of living is lower here than in many cities. By day, Millennials can make their own rules and create their own business start-up culture. At night, they can enjoy the city’s cultural and culinary offerings.
Pastor Larnzy Carpenter Jr. inspires Starkville with love. Community activist Frances Hairston works to heal Crawford race relations. And history teacher Chuck Yarborough uses the past to improve the future in Columbus.
Alexander “Grey” Feaster has all the symptoms of a man in love. He can’t stop talking about the new lady in his life — her soft voice, her gentle ways, her natural beauty. Feaster, 39, just received the 2015 Freightliner Cascadia Evolution, the newest member of the J.B. Hunt Transport Services fleet.
By Carmen K. Sisson | Planet Weekly | GoodReads.com This is hands-down the best book I have read by Pat Conroy, remarkable considering it is his second book, published in 1972 when he was 27. The Water is Wide is a memoir, like most Conroy novels, and it is based on…
Anthony Harris keeps his dog tags hanging inside his truck. Brent Stoufer and Joshua Matson wear camouflage ball caps while on their routes. All three have something in common: They are military veterans and are among the first drivers to participate in Hunt’s Heroes, a new program officially launched in April by J.B. Hunt Transport Services.
Gospel-gabbing used car salesman Allen Jones gives cars to seniors in Caledonia. Music teacher Angie Riffell creates a unique homeschool opportunity in Columbus. And Dorothy Ryland gives West Point residents the keys to the American Dream.
“I spoke with my wife and said, ‘Baby, we’re working and making everybody else rich, but we can live real good if we put ourselves out there,” says J.B. Hunt owner operator Anthony Branch. By leasing on as an owner operator, he is able to run his company without having his job run his life.
For most of the 20th century, blacks were buying one-way tickets out of the Jim Crow South in hopes of a better life. Nearly 6 million African-Americans followed the railroads to places like Detroit and Chicago, never dreaming that their children and grandchildren would someday lead a return migration, chasing the American dream back down the Mississippi and straight across the Mason-Dixon line.
By the time Sam Shifflett could walk, he knew he wanted to drive. Dump trucks, fire trucks, big rigs — he loved them all. So when he signed on with J.B. Hunt Transport Services in January 1997, he immediately felt at home. There was only one problem — he didn’t want to live on the road.
It was well past dark when the man and the boy finally got the cattle unloaded. The road was empty and the man was tired. The boy had been driving farm trucks around the family ranch for several years. The boy was ready, the man figured. He handed over the keys and climbed into the passenger seat to catch some much-needed shuteye.
Some nights, when Jon Gault felt his worst, he wondered if he would live long enough to see his 17-year-old son go to college or to walk his daughter, now 8, down the aisle. So when the Seattle resident signed up for Washington’s state-run Obamacare exchange in October, he was jubilant.
Last year, when James Seal left his job as an insulator at shipbuilder Huntington Ingalls Industries in Pascagoula, Miss., he said goodbye to his Blue Cross Blue Shield plan. Since then, he and his wife have paid cash for medical care or visited the hospital emergency room. But mostly, they’ve gritted their teeth through health challenges. It is a strategy that has worked for the most part.
