This post originally appeared in The Good Men Project

You’ve probably never listened to—or heard of—Paul Mauriat and his Dynamic Orchestra. And, really, this is okay. Musically, you’re not missing anything. But, let’s be realistic: we are always missing something.

Paul Mauriat, a classically trained French composer, died at 81, releasing over 120 records in a career that spanned almost a half-century. He…

Luckily, a bird has never crapped on my head.

There are times when I’m walking and I catch the sight of a flying bird, its wings akimbo and soaring more like a kite than a sentient being. I get that feeling of wonder—the kind of cheesy awe that will probably make me a “birder” in my twilight years. That is, I’m in awe until it flies directly over my head.

At this point, I crane my neck slightly, bracing myself for something. I stare up at the bird and I get scared that…

The road needed replacing.

The road: a ramp between I-95N and 128N in Peabody, MA, perhaps one of the most used for commuters working in Boston but living north of the city.

On March 9, a UPS tractor-trailer rolled over on the ramp. Reports continue to fly around causes, none emerging as definitive: the driver lost control of the turn. He was cut off. He was...who knows?

After the rollover, the damage control shut down a major artery that shoots from the urban heart of…

[Disclaimer: The following is an adapted excerpt from a semi-formal talk I gave a few weeks ago on the topic of “Wrath,” as part of a series on the “Seven Deadly Sins.” This is part of a larger series called Ockham’s Kegger sponsored by Christ Church—an Episcopal community in South Hamilton, MA. The point of Ockham’s Kegger, says Fr. Patrick Gray, is to discuss “issues of Christian faith in a casual and relaxed atmosphere… This program…will serve up challenging ideas to…

[Disclaimer: The following is an adapted excerpt from a semi-formal talk I gave a few weeks ago on the topic of “Wrath,” as part of a series on the “Seven Deadly Sins.” This is part of a larger series called Ockham’s Kegger sponsored by Christ Church—an Episcopal community in South Hamilton, MA. The point of Ockham’s Kegger, says Fr. Patrick Gray, is to discuss “issues of Christian faith in a casual and relaxed atmosphere… This program…will serve up challenging ideas to…

As a result of reading all the posts in our topic of the month, the thing that's been on my mind a lot is being more proactive about reconciliation strategies between people of faith and the LGBTQ community.

What prompts this idea is a beautifully written article posted by my good friend, and State of Formation colleague, Oliver…

Over three years ago, when I walked into Hamilton-Smith Hall, Rm 101 for the first time, I was already sweating through my shirt. Sure, I was accepted into the same Master of Fine Arts in creative writing as the rest of the room, but clearly they were the genuine ones and I was just a clerical error.

During a growing discussion about writing, I felt ideas percolate in my brain, but I squashed each one with the notion that I didn’t belong. However, it seemed that every time someone…

I bet you know the feeling well.

You’re sitting at your computer trawling your daily litany of internet-check-in and networking sites, be them a flutter of tweets or tumblr-fulls of diggs and books of faces. There’s a link from someone who you suspect doesn’t share your opinion on something, be it the existence of g/God or the thickness and regionality of pizza. You know it could change the pace of your day, but you click anyway, only to find a disagreeable slice of vitriol that…

This post originally appeared at Good Men Project Magazine

In 1987, just a few weeks before he died of cancer, my father recorded his final thoughts onto an audiotape. Among his slow, breathy reflections, he made sure to leave messages for his three kids. His charge to me?

“A lot of the weight of the man of the house will be on your shoulders.”

I was 4. A week or so after he died, I refused to leave the…

My tea is getting cold.

As December wears itself threadbare into an unswerving New Hampshire winter, I have to keep a space heater in my office. If I want to get any writing done, I have to remember to give the room an hour to warm up, seeing as how my building’s archaic take on heating is a single, rust bucket of a gas heater at the other end of the apartment. Sometimes I loathe how much my actions are based on the temperature gauge—my activism blanketed in a liminal state of…