In Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, we are dropped in the middle of a story already half told. Scrooge is a nasty, miserly man being haunted by his former business partner and the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and yet to come. But why? Who are these ghosts and what are their motives behind repeatedly visiting Scrooge that fateful Christmas Eve?The Jackson Theatre Guild has brought the very play to The Ned that we need to answer these questions: Jacob Marley’s Christmas Carol.
Read MoreIt’s been six years now since I enjoyed a week’s vacation with my family in London, England. Before visiting I had the suspicion that I was a true Brit at heart, between my Beatles addiction, affinity for a hearty breakfast, and wardrobe of heavy layers and muted colors, but upon landing at the Nashville airport, Styrofoam cup empty from a poor rendition of the real Earl Grey in which I had indulged myself for the last week at every opportunity, I knew I would forever miss that place.
Read MoreStanding in the center of the walkway, I found myself staring anxiously at the building before me: the University of Memphis at Lambuth. It was my first day back to college since graduating from Jackson State Community College a little over a year before, and I reluctantly confessed to myself that I was a bit nervous. I couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason for this nervousness; I had been through the “first day of school” more times than I could count, yet I still felt the same anxiety as I had in previous years.
Read MoreThe Duncan family greets you as a soon as you arrive. At first you see a quaint gift shop atop a hill, and below to the left, you see a few rows of trees of the first farm. As your wonder begins to take over, you get closer to that tiny shop, and you notice they have hot cocoa for you to enjoy right there on the doorstep. You walk in, and the shop explodes with color and warmth. There are beautiful homemade wreaths, ornaments, and holiday decor that just seem to resonate in a place you’ve long forgotten.
Read MoreThere is nothing quite like southern suburbia. It’s filled with people who just want to sit you down and offer you a proper sweet tea, cars nearly big enough to fly to space, and monograms embellishing almost everything you own. Like most of you readers, I was born and raised in Jackson, Tennessee. I grew up with two loving and supportive parents, a beautiful nanny whom I would come to know as family, a hilarious sister two years younger than me, and a huge black lab named Winston. (He was named this after the prime minister Winston Churchill, of course.)
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