Let Freedom Ring and Opportunity Knock

Last night there was a knock on my door. As first, it startled me. I guess I’m as jumpy as everyone else right now. But it’s my own door; of course I’m answering. When I feel fearful, I remind myself that I was a Sgt. in the U.S. Marine Corps. Plus I live in a secured building.

I raked my fingers through my second-day hair, checked my t-shirt for cake crumbs, leaned my eye against the peephole, and saw a woman. I opened the door.

Book Reviews: Q and A With the Author of The Pink Marine

Greg Cope White, author of The Pink Marine, recently sat down for an interview with legendary journalist Barbara Winfrey* to talk about his new book of Marine Corps boot camp stories.

As Greg joined Barbara on the sofa he offered her a plate of his stunning, made-for-this-interview curried chicken salad. Once Greg was sure his hair looked great on camera, he motioned for the television crew to help themselves to the buffet.

*an entirely fictitious person with a name that Greg made up based on no one in real life and a name that in no way can get Greg in trouble. 

The Pink Marine:
My Marine Corps Boot Camp Story is in stores now!

I am one of the few, the proud, the Marines -- and the published!

My memoir, The Pink Marine, loaded with U.S. Marine Corps boot camp stories, is out and available to buy. I appreciate your support.

What the hell was I thinking, enlisting in the most elite branch of the U.S. military?! First, I'm gay. Although we do love the best of everything.... Second, you'll understand once you've read the book.

Social Media: Twitter Is A Hungry Bird

I got turned down for a job for not having enough Twitter followers.

When did invisible social media become the indivisible job deciderer? I thought a resume, experience and references made me an attractive candidate. I had no idea that my popularity in the ethosphere impacted how well I might perform for an employer in the real world.

Happy Birthday: Everyone Old is New Again

It's my birthday.

How old am I? Well....my great-grandmother won her husband in a jumping contest. It was about 1870, she was 15, maybe not ready to wed; but the civil war had wiped out most of the eligible men in her Missouri town. So competition was stiff. She however, had to be flexible and literally rise to the occasion. And rise above every other hopeful.

I’m lucky that I knew her; but she didn't talk much. She was exhausted. I mean, come on — she won her husband in a jumping contest.

I Tell The Tale of New Orleans At Mardi Gras

Hit New Orleans any time and you're greeted with delicious, deeply developed flavors found no where else.

Treat the city like a bowl of spicy gumbo. Tear off a chunk of French bread. Dredge it along the bottom of the bowl. Soak up every bit.

Experience New Orleans at Mardi Gras and you'll feast on the world's wildest street party. Around every corner you'll find a gasp. Some naughty, some nice.

You're likely end up with a tattoo on your soul.

 As they say in the Big Easy -- Let the good times roll.

Floating On A Mardi Gras Parade

I rode on a float in a Mardi Gras parade in New Orleans. Lots of my firsts happened in New Orleans. I took a streetcar to school, met my lifelong best friend, joined the Marine Corps.

I ate my first oyster in the Big Easy. I was thirteen. My family moved there from Texas -- where the most exotic slimy thing I’d ever swallowed was okra.

The waiter carried the tray of oysters as if they were valuable, easing it down onto our table. Things on ice appear more precious. I picked up an oyster. It smelled like the stinky parts of the Galveston beach. The shell was thick and jagged. Everything about it looked like something not to eat. I stared down at the gelatinous mass quivering in pearlescent liquid.

I thought, “New Orleans is home now; better get used to it.” With a toss I’d seen in movies, the cold lump slid down my throat. Once those flavors get in you, you’re addicted.