Sterling Griggs

Here in the south, mosquitoes are a part of every day life, especially in the warmer months, which last about 11 1/2 months out of the year. Google tells me that there are more than 3,500 species of mosquitoes, with about 175 of them found in the United States. That means that the southern states have approximately 183 species of mosquitoes because I am convinced that we have them all plus a few that have yet to be discovered. I live on the coast, which is a nice way of saying semi-swamp, and mosquitoes flock to this part of the state because, word is, that they can live a long and content life here. Fat and sassy, my grandmother would say. I can't prove this scientifically, but I've heard that 5 million mosquitoes can grow in a teaspoon-sized puddle of water. When the humidity is high like it is, I'm pretty sure we are cranking those suckers out by the truck load. When I was young, I can remember the mosquito truck that used to barrel through my neighborhood releasing...

Today is the first day of August, which means that there are still a few weeks before school begins and the real monotony of the schedule takes over. Summer is still in full swing and there are plenty more days at the beach and the pool to be had. It is still hot, so steamy hot that eyeglasses fog over once you leave the house and you begin to sweat just thinking about how hot it's going to be once you open the front door. Your legs instantly stick to the car seats and the grass in your yard gave up its fight for growth a long time ago. The humidity gauge reads 70%, but I think that's a lie. It probably succumbed to the heat, too. There are no school buses to dodge in the afternoons, no homework assignments to complete, and no lunches to pack in the wee hours of the morning. There is still plenty of time to binge watch Netflix shows for the third time and to sleep in after staying up late just because you can. Walmart has aisles of school supplies for sale at rock bottom pri...

They didn’t catch a thing. In fact, I’m not even so sure they got so much as a nibble on those hooks baited with artificial top water frogs, probably not the best choice for luring bass in this pond. Although there are plenty of manmade retention ponds all around, natural freshwater spots aren’t all that common this close to the coast. Yet these less than ideal circumstances did not - could not - deter my son and his friend, along with my tag along daughter, from attempting to catch “the big one.” Before we moved to the coast, we had unlimited access to a pond on the edge of our property that was swarming with fish, which included a giant elusive bass that we named Maximus. My brother, visiting from New York, purchased cheap rod and reel combos, effectively introducing fishing to my kids. The typical haul was a glob of algae covered grass or a tree limb on a wayward cast, yet every once in a blue moon one of them would hook a small brim or bass. Maximus, however, would remain ...

"I'm bored." "There's nothing to do." "Can we go somewhere and do something?" Growing up, I am certain that I uttered those same phrases at least a million times, especially during the summer months. It didn't seem to matter that I had two older brothers close to my age, a huge backyard to play in, neighborhood pool that never seemed to close, and was surrounded by woods and creeks that never ceased to invite me for an adventure. Yet even then, I often struggled to find things to do. Since this was the era before computers and cell phone technology, sitting in front of the television was about as lazy as I could get away with until my mom made me go back outside. Most days I was out the door after breakfast and had to be called home (via my mom's vocal chords, not a phone!) for dinner. Boredom wasn't much of an option or a privilege for me and most of the friends I knew. Now don't get me wrong - I'm not claiming to have lived so...

This past Saturday night my new neighborhood - Wrightsville Green, aka The Hood - celebrated its annual 4th of July gathering. Before we even moved in, several of our neighbors were quick to tell us how fun and amazing this night was. Our home owner's association sent us emails reminding us of the festivities and we were asked to sign up to bring food at the community mailbox. Seeing this as an opportune chance to get to know pretty much everyone in all 50+ homes, we agreed to bring cantaloupe (because you can't have a party without melon) and a cucumber/tomato/onion salad (because if they didn't eat it, I would). The days leading up to the shindig were filled with stories of past 4th of July celebrations and how this year's was going to be the best ever. Finally the big day had arrived. The party officially started at 4:00 but we planned to be fashionably late because it's really awkward when you don't really know many people and you are the first ones to ...

Sarcasm and cynicism is something I come by honest. Perhaps it's because I'm the youngest of three boys, all separated by a mere two and half years, and my place on the food chain was well established from day one. Or maybe it was all the comments that me and my brothers got when mom dressed us up all alike and people would stare for a second and then exclaim, " Oh my! Are they triplets? " It was at this point that I usually got into trouble. Before my mom could explain our ages, I would step up, hands on my hips, and ask, " Do we look like triplets? " I mean, come on! We were stair stepped in height and, other than a crop of blonde hair on top of our heads, we really didn't look all that much alike. Those early lessons that I learned after the fact about manners should have stuck with me longer than they did. Growing up in a house full of boys wasn't always easy, but it most certainly was fun. From the beginning the outdoors was our playground...

I didn't sleep in much during the summers when I was a kid, not when there was so much to do each day. From the moment I finished my bowl of Froot Loops in the morning until the sun went down and I knew to come home when I heard my mom hollering for me, summers were made for playing outside. My neighborhood was filled with other kids close to my age, so there was never a shortage on things to do and places to explore. But without a doubt my fondest summer memories involved the Sandihill Swimming Pool that we joined when I was in kindergarten. Sandihill was unlike any other swimming pool on the planet. It wasn't Olympic size or some luxurious, gated private club. Instead, it was a pool tucked away in a neighborhood next to ours that felt like the best kept secret. What made that pool so special was the people and the memories that were made there. It was there that I learned to swim, not because I took lessons but rather because I jumped into the shallow end one day and figured ...