What the Duck


Well, y’all know I can’t NOT speak about a controversy.

Let me preface this by saying, I was a HUGE Duck Dynasty fan, still am.  My lanyard with my school ID on it is Duck D, along with a plethora of other things.

(Uncle Si is my spirit animal, y’all)

I always knew that when it came to politics and social equality, I would disagree with the Robertsons, but it was never something that came up on the show, so I didn’t have to think about it.  They could go on about their personal business, and I could go about mine.

However, earlier this week, Phil, the patriarch of the family, made some very racist and anti-gay statements. A&E has since suspended Phil indefinitely from the show for violating his contract.

And every “Christian” (and I use that word loosely in this post) on my timeline has shouted from the rooftops about the injustice done to a “great Christian man” who was “simply exercising his first amendment rights.”

Oh honey please.

This is NOT a case of free speech. Free speech is not being able to say whatever you want without being reprimanded, it’s being able to say whatever you want without going to jail. So yeah, Phil was within his rights to make the statements he made, but so was A&E when they suspended him.

So obviously, free speech is not the issue here. Phil is not in jail, he is simply suspended from the show. (And I thought he was leaving anyway, so what’s the big deal?)

The second piece of the puzzle, which has caused me to consider unfriending people on Facebook today, is that this is such a big deal to all of these “Christians.”

But my friends, Smith and Todd sleep on the streets tonight, not knowing where their next meals are coming from.

And no one is shouting from the rooftop for them.

Last night, I posted this on Facebook.

“While some of my sweetest friends sleep on the streets and struggle to find their next meal, I open Facebook to see people ranting about a TV show. Many people are saying this is a sign of the downfall of America, but I think the real travesty is that people who claim to be “Christians” are more concerned with a celebrity violating his contract than their brothers and sisters in need.”

Later, one of my friends shared it on her own page, and someone commented on it.

He said something to the extent of I was wrong because without those first amendment (!) rights my friends would not be heard or fought for.


I politely commented back that they aren’t being fought for now, so even if it were a case of free speech,  nothing about their living conditions would change.

See, this is my problem.

People in the church are all too focused on their cliques and their  “own” people.

They only think of helping others around the holiday time that they want to claim as theirs and theirs alone.

IT KILLS ME, y’all.

There is such an uproar over a man on the TELEVISION, but I have friends who have lived on the streets for upwards of thirty years.

This is WRONG.

So yeah, I’ll probably keep watching Duck Dynasty, because A&E is smart enough to not alienate anyone in their programming.

And I’ll probably hate being a not-so-conservative in the south, but in the interest of “free speech” my voice is just as valid as the majority’s.

Rant over.



One Semester Down



I have officially finished my first semester as a college student.

Time has FLOWN by.

Well, in certain parts.

I can honestly say, and have said to one of my favorite coworkers, that I am a COMPLETELY different person than I was at the beginning of this semester.


I thought I changed a lot in the three years of high school I had, but that was NOTHING compared to this.

I have had to re-evaluate my beliefs constantly to make them fit all the knowledge I have gained.

I am very proud to say that I’ve changed, actually.

I have learned more this semester, both in the classroom and through personal experience, than I could have ever imagined.

I cannot thank Wesleyan faculty, staff, and my sisters enough.

You have all shaped me and changed me.

It sort of scares me and excites me at the same time for the next three-and-a-half (WHAT) years.

So while, yes, I have had some bad times this semester, I am lucky enough to have a GIANT group of sisters surrounding me, waiting to bring me back into the fold.

I cannot say enough good things right now.

One of the biggest ways I have seen the epitome of sisterhood this semester is when K, one of our own, went in the hospital last week, and the outlook was bleak.

Wesleyannes from all over were praying or sending love.

And while she’s still not doing well, and it will be a rough road to recovery, both the steps forward and the steps backward have been rejoiced and cried over by many a Wesleyan woman.

K was one of the first people I met here. I actually mentioned her in a post a couple of months ago.

With all the death I have had to face in my short eighteen years, I have worried and cried over K all week.

But I have felt her presence with me, and her love.

The bond between sisters never breaks, even when hospital walls stand in the way.

And that, my friends, is why it’s good to be a Wesleyanne.


My Brother From Another Mother


There is one person I haven’t blogged about very often that deserves to be spoken about.

My big brother.

It continues to amaze me how true the “blood is thicker than water” concept is.

Will and I never lived in the same house, because by the time I was born, he had moved to Alabama.

However, he came to visit quite often, and always made time to play and hang out with his way less cool little sister.

Because of our age difference, he’s always been a little protective over me. As in, last week he told me that any guy that wanted to propose had to ask him and my Mama first.

Dear Lord, that boy better be strong. 😉

Anyway, Will and I joke that because we’re Davidsons, we never show affection.

And for the most part that’s been true.

But, when crisis hits, people change.

I have never hugged my brother or told him I loved him more than I have in the past month.

We’ve both had to grow up a lot in the midst of our dad’s death.

My brother, a dad himself, clutched tighter to his daughters.

I have learned to make a lot of decisions on my own, which is SCARY AS MESS.

We’ve both learned that showing emotion is not the worst thing in the world, it doesn’t make us weak.

One of the most bittersweet moments we had was right after the graveside.

There had been some drama right before the service, and I had been so upset that I went to stand with Lynn and Hank, my second family.

After the service was over, I just stood there.

All of a sudden, Will grabbed me and we held onto each other and cried for what felt like forever.  We didn’t say anything, we just sobbed.

It is possible that we are the only ones who know what feelings we are having.

I am honored to have cried with my brother, listened to him cry, and had him listen to me cry.

He will forever be my best friend.

Last week, he came over from Alabama to help my grandmother with some things around her house.

I came over too, as she also needed me.

I cannot remember the last time the three of us were together, staying at her house like that.

I am thankful for that memory.

One day, as I was leaving for class I walked by the door and saw this.

Don't ask me why, but this view almost made me cry.

Don’t ask me why, but this view almost made me cry.

Will and I lost the one parent that we share.  I think we’re both feeling a little lost in the midst of so much change.

But looking at our shoes, same style, just sitting there next to one another, I felt like I belonged.  I felt like we were kids again, running around Nannan’s house driving her nuts. 🙂

We are our own sort of little family right now.  My grandmother, Will, Christy, the babies, and me.

And there’s such beauty in it, I cannot even tell you.

I think my dad would be proud to see us sticking together.

So tonight I am thankful for a big brother who worries about me, cries with me, and brings such laughter and fun to my life.

I love you, Will!


Loss, Auburn Tigers, and Birthdays


Sorry I haven’t posted in forever.

There’s been a lot going on, and maybe by the end of this post, you’ll forgive me.

I will never understand why people die.

Especially at 68, 67, and would’ve turned 52 today.

You see, on November 13, 2013, I lost my dad.

By no means did we have a perfect relationship.

We were close, but not in a traditional way.

We could have left things in a terrible way, and then the next time we saw each other pick up like nothing had ever happened.

Through his death, I learned several things.

First, when you are at someone’s deathbed, you forget about everything they ever did to hurt you, and all you remember are the good times.

Like my dad, who had tea parties with me, painted my toenails, and reassured me that the ghosts I was seeing in his house were friendly.

dees reading

One of my favorite memories. We spent many an afternoon curled up with a book. I was definitely lucky to get parents who would sit down and read to me.

Next, I have learned that life is not a fairy tale.  Just because I have an evil step monster, does not mean that I will be avenged in the end.  Sometimes, unfortunately, bad wins over good.  I believe my dad knew this better than anyone, but continued to embrace life by going snorkeling, skydiving, and other things I would never attempt.

I have also been reminded of the fabulous community I am surrounded by.

Best friends who will text you while they’re in class because they are worried about you.

And best friends and their family that take you to Waffle House after funerals.

Second Mommas that let you stay at their house, or come by on the way home from Fort Valley.

Sweet friends/coworkers who bring you nice chocolate in a Bare Bulb cup.

Cousins that constantly check to make sure you’re okay.

Godparents who are willing to take down step monsters for you.

Brothers that will find you when you’re upset and grab onto you and won’t let go.

Family. That one speaks for itself.

Even though it's been 17 years since this picture was taken, when people mention my family, this is my first thought.  The first people I ever knew.

Even though it’s been 17 years since this picture was taken, when people mention my family, this is my first thought. The first people I ever knew.

Looking at these pictures, it’s hard to believe that that’s the man that I watched for so many years be strong, that succumbed to weakness in that hospital.

I am so privileged to have been (with my brother) the last person to see him conscious.

He couldn’t speak to us, because of the ventilator, but I could read in his eyes.

He was relieved to see us there, and that is a precious gift.

So today, on what is to the outside world Pearl Harbor day, I ate a piece of birthday cake to celebrate the life of the man who made my life possible.  We had our issues, but I always knew that if I needed something, he’d have been there in a heartbeat.

He is the only man I have ever known that has never made a comment about my weight and never made a comment about me personally being insufficient for being a girl. That’s a gift that he never knew he gave me.

Daddy, I miss you.

I wish you were here to see your sweet nieces.

I wish you were here to celebrate my success in college with.

I wish you were here for your momma.

She misses you.

We all do.

Thanks for everything you did for me, Will, and the rest of the family.

And we all know that Auburn won the SEC Championship just for you. 😉

War Eagle!