There is nothing beautiful about a neighborhood razed and left for kudzu and vines to swallow trees whole, while grass begins forming veins in the cracks of the abandoned streets. There is nothing beautiful about a lot tended only enough to keep back tall grasses. So when I say I love the patch of abandoned land called Westwood Gardens, I get that it’s kind of weird.
Read MoreOn a sunny afternoon in the fall Melissa and I found ourselves outside, sitting at a black metal table with a red umbrella, and discussing ideas for “Cultures of Jackson.” As I perused through the calendar looking for some hidden inspiration, my eyes fell upon the dreaded finals week in December, but something else also caught my eye. With a mischievous grin I looked up at Mel and said, “Hey . . .did you know Hanukkah is in December this year?”
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