Bespoke

brent taylor

  • Learning at the Speed of Hair

    My son is getting an $8,000 haircut in two weeks. He’s been at the University of Hamburg studying and traveling since January and for the past two years his hair has grown along with his learning, a marker of time,… Continue reading

  • Butch, Sundance, and Jimmy

    Yesterday, sitting in my recliner on a Sunday afternoon, half-awake, my cell phone rang. It was Jimmy. I knew he had just been released from OU Medical Center in Oklahoma City. I jumped from my chair and ran outside because… Continue reading

  • Questions without Answers

    My son spent every waking moment of 1996 as a three-year old child repeating one word, “Why?” Why are there big red balls on some electric power lines and why can’t he wear his socks according to thickness instead of… Continue reading

  • Carbon Canyon

    Congratulations James Sutherland! Can’t believe my nephew is graduating from Harding University. Just a few years ago he was a leaping gnome on a trampoline and a make-believe toothbrush on a crocodile in one of the first stories I ever… Continue reading

  • The Color of God

    The bus crossed the 7th street bridge and I peered over the rail through an open window at the eddies of a muddy river, swirling coffee relentlessly shaping the bank of naked earth. On my first day of junior high… Continue reading

  • The Boy The Man and The Mick

    I should have listened to the grizzled veteran, the St. Louis Cardinals concessionaire who sold me the hot dog when he admonished me to, “Stick that five dollar bill in your pocket and quit waving it around like a 4th… Continue reading

  • Discovering the Holy Among the Profane in Fifteen Minutes

    I grew up in a home that severely limited my creative outlet of language…I wasn’t allowed to curse, nor was I given the freedom to vent with words that hinted of the real four-letter curse words, the baby curse words… Continue reading

  • The Heavens Dark Matter and the Andy Warhol Swing

    Once in my youth, I felt heaven unreachable, sterile, a place of thou shalt not have fun, and my fervor was not equal to the pill-box hatted lady sitting in the pew in front of me blocking my view of… Continue reading

  • A Note in Each Pocket

    My daughter Jenna texted me this message a few weeks ago while she watched the halftime events of an National Football League game. “Hey, Punt Pass and Kick is on the halftime show!” I didn’t bother to run and watch.… Continue reading

  • The Best Shortstop I Ever Saw

    A Gatorade cooler dumped on my head moment of clarity regarding my diminishing skills as a shortstop happened one summer evening in the hole between short and third as I reached down across my body for a grounder and caught a… Continue reading