My younger brother is 47 years old, and has worked for the same company since he was seventeen. Thirty years at the same place - well, working in various locations, but for the same company. These days he’s in management, and unless something drastic happens, he will probably retire from there in another 20 years. 

On the other hand, I am 52 years old, and since I was sixteen, the list of…

This was supposed to arrive in your inbox on Saturday, but I was traveling, and the robots working behind the scene let me down. So, here you go, a few days late. But I waited more than 10 years to write this story, so it probably didn't mind waiting to be read a few more days. - HH

Hey y'all, 

I was doing some digital cleanup and came across a bunch of…

Hey y'all,
In my hardrive are six drafts that I tried to write for today’s essay, but nothing clicked. My brain is occupied with lots of things ranging from political to economic to family matters, and it just can’t light on one thing, as my people are known to say. So, I think I’m just going to write you a letter instead. We’re past due for one anyway.

I’m doing well, all…

It’s early Sunday morning and the sky is grey and dim, looking like the sky in a post-apocalyptic film whose name I cannot recall, a metaphor that strikes too close to home these days.  The road stretches in front of me for miles, empty, and the dash thermometer tells me it is 22 degrees outside, just 5 degrees warmer than it was when I left my hotel this morning. I’ve been driving…

The room is silent, but not really - silence being such a rare thing. In reality, the silence here is made up of the humming of the dorm-sized refrigerator, the heated air passing through the air vents, and some slight electronic hum that I can’t quite identify. It’s dark, too, except for the bedside lamp and the glow from my laptop screen. Normally, I would include the tapping of keys in the…

Hey y'all!

I'm always working to expand my skills, and I think I'm going to add video to my list. I'm planning on both periodic "Members Only" videos as well as regular YouTube videos for the public.

Two favors:

First - can you check out this video? It's an unlisted video, so that means that the only people who can see it are the ones who have the link. It's a…

It's been a rough week for me, schedule wise, as everyone came out of hibernation and wanted me to do something this week. So, a short one today, but with a question at the end I would love your input on. Thanks - HH

When we bought our first house, the backyard was a mess. It sloped away from the house, and was filled with Privet and Japanese Honeysuckle, winding together in…

I'm working on a much longer essay around history, family, and roots, so don't be surprised if themes in today's piece show up often in the weeks ahead. Thanks for reading! - HH

The trouble is always how to start, but my part of the story really began in 1814, when Edwin Hollowell, a Quaker, died at the age of 40 in rural North Carolina outside Goldsboro, leaving his 40-year-old wife Brambly…

Because of the holidays and travel, I'm taking the next two weeks off from these bonus essays. If you need more to read, check out the archives and other downloadable Members Only content here. I hope you have a happy holidays, and I will be back in your inbox on the 4th of January. - HH

One of the dangers of writing about the past is the tendency to slip into…

It’s cold outside this morning, as I sit here at my desk. And by cold, I mean, it’s cold for here – right at 32 degrees - but it would not impress someone from Montana or North Dakota. We don’t get a lot of cold weather here – maybe 10 times in a calendar year will it get below 25 degrees, and then usually for only a few hours. Every 4-5 years…

NB: If you celebrated Thanksgiving this week, I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. Because of the holidays, today's piece is short and was a bit delayed. - HH

It was a simple board and batten building, uninsulated, with a tin roof and a dirt floor, resting on a six-inch-high concrete mudsill. When I knew it, in the late 1970’s, its owner had been dead for nearly a decade…

One of the things I love about my life is the unlikely relationships I have. I am friends with millionaires and people who live under bridges, with snake handling preachers and high church bishops, with atheists and holly rollers, with PhD's and elementary school dropouts, with folks who are NYT bestselling authors and folk who are illiterate.

And thanks to a very surreal decade of my life, I know lots of public…

NB: This is NOT the essay I promised you every Saturday morning. But the election and it's aftermath has disrupted my life and productivity, and I owe you a newsletter, and it was much easier to write, so I did that. We will return to regular programing next week. - HH

Hey y'all, 

I do not pretend to know the partisan affiliations of those who read my work. In fact, since…

It’s 6:45 AM, and I’m on the front porch, drinking my coffee as the sky in the east turns pink, and slowly the golden sun peeks over the horizon. Cars whir by on the highway at the end of the block, their headlights a blur, and the sunrise is mostly hidden by the garish Chili’s restaurant sign. I take a deep breath and the exhaust fumes burn my lungs. I hear no…

It’s not a large house – barely 1000 square feet. It was built in the early 1950’s, in a new subdivision being marketed to Black professionals. The neighbors were professors, merchants, and at least one poet – Margaret Walker lived in the only two-story house on the block, but on the other end of the street. 

Like many houses from that era, it is in all ways smaller than houses being built…