I’m processing today.

A year ago, while hibernating through the pandemic’s winter spike in my grandma’s rural Wisconsin basement, I spent an entire day with my eyes glued to a television screen, realizing the mortality of American political sovereignty, and it’s implications.

As that day progressed, I would go on…

This is a post about serendipity, trees that I will not (and have not) see(n) grow, and five weeks spent in Chattanooga.

I hope you read it. Enjoy it. Let it sink in.

Last Saturday was Tennessee Tree Day. In honor of it, I signed up to plant trees with…

I’ve been in Chattanooga for a week now. Boy, how time flies!

This isn’t my first time settling into a new place and community — in fact it’s somewhere near my 30th or 40th or 50th (depending on how you qualify it) in the past four years.

Pandemic withstanding, all…

I first learned about Chattanooga as a high school senior.

As an assignment for a marketing class, we were tasked with creating and branding a minor league baseball team. I landed on Chattanooga as my team’s host city. Why? Because I thought it was one of the most unique names…

When I woke up yesterday morning, I knew I wanted to get outside, to stretch my legs, to breathe fresh air. But I didn’t know where I would go.

After working through my morning, I ended up on the All Trails website in the afternoon and began scanning the map…

I came around the bend in the road on a country highway in rural Alabama to be met by this scene.

An infinite grassland made distinct by this monolithic hardwood.

From somewhere on the horizon, a steady stream of cattle dotted the landscape, destined to join the rest of their…

I stopped speaking in order to listen. I listened so that I could learn. I learned so that I could finally figure out how to be heard.

It started with the noise. There was too much of it. One yell was always met by another. A single voice silenced others…

I started tracing two-lane highways through Wisconsin like lines in the palm of my hand. The tires of my grandma’s old Toyota were the graphite, the steering wheel was my pencil. I used them to etch the map of this state, my second home growing up, into my mind.

I…

Kenneth Gerard Andejeski

To be human is to be flawed.

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