James D. Hogan

The Good Stuff

On January 18, 2023

FAITH

We went to Statesville this weekend to celebrate Kel and Alan’s birthdays. It was a long weekend–both intentionally and not; Friday was a surprise snow day, even though we didn’t get much of anything until Friday night, and barely then an inch. Monday was MLK day, so the kids were off from school then, too. So Saturday, we packed up everybody, including the Doodle and the Chiweenie, and headed down the mountain. The higher elevations certainly had more snow than we did, but we made it through okay.

Sunday I was able to make it over to Trinity for the first time since we moved just a touch more than a year ago. Occasions like this sometimes make me anxious–the well-managed introvert inside me quickly gets overwhelmed–but it was nothing short of wonderful. There have been times when I’ve gone back to visit an old office after I’d changed jobs, or even come back here to Cullowhee to see old professors, but nothing felt quite like it did to be back among a community of church people who were happy to see you. At least, this one. I don’t know if that’s true everywhere.

It was a warm reception–though just about every conversation I started up with someone was interrupted by someone else who came over to say hello, and when that conversation started to move into substance, someone else would come over. But that was fine.

I Still Can’t Get it Right

By James D. Hogan

On January 2, 2023

In diary

A Change’ll Do You Good

By James D. Hogan

On December 31, 2022

In diary

On leaning into that whole “change is inevitable” bit…

Rarely have major life changes lined up so neatly with a calendar year. Not quite a year ago, I jumped in the car with a suitcase, kissed the kiddos and Kel goodbye (although they’d be coming behind me the next day), and drove up the mountain to Cullowhee. I checked into the Bird Alumni House, which became our home for the next three weeks, and reported to HFR for my first day of work at Western. Later that week, we enrolled the kiddos in their new school, and Kel officially began her full-time work for her own company.

By the time we closed on our house a few weeks later, it had already snowed–twice. And by the time our movers arrived with all our household possessions, it had threatened to snow a third time. (The closing was a round robin of delays, COVID, and weather; the first week in the house, the kids slept on air mattresses, and we ate off a card table.)

I traveled a fair amount this year–eight trips for work, several others for personal matters. In March, we lost our dear Aunt Jean, and the N.C. contingency of the Hogan family trekked through a winter storm to make the funeral. In April, I took Julia on her first “on a plane” trip to St. Petersburg for a weekend. We all made it to Cherry Grove for our family beach week in June, and this fall, I flew back up to NJ for a football weekend with family, including Jason and the Knights Brigade.

We made plenty of trips back to Statesville. So many I cannot count them all.