Theodore Roosevelt became the first U.S. president to fly in an airplane when he took a brief flight in St. Louis on October 11, 1910, just seven years after the Wright brothers’ first powered flight.
Roosevelt was no longer president at the time, making William Howard Taft the first sitting president to fly, although Taft’s flight occurred in 1910 as well. Roosevelt reportedly enjoyed the experience, riding with pilot Arch Hoxsey for about four minutes.
USA. A breakfast counter. The waitress recommended the biscuits and gravy, and when the plate arrived, I thought something had gone wrong in the kitchen.
I say this with shame. The dish looked like a construction site after rain. Pale mounds. Gray ladle-fall. Speckles I could not identify.
In my land, the eye eats first. A meal is arranged like a garden. This meal was arranged like weather.
"Is it… finished?" I asked, carefully.
"Honey, that's what it looks like."
The man beside me was already eating his. He did not look up. "Just try it."
I am a man who has charged hillsides at dawn. I raised the fork. I tried it.
I must now formally apologize to the biscuits, the gravy, the waitress, the kitchen, and the entire breakfast tradition of the American South.
It was magnificent. Warm. Peppered. The biscuit drank the gravy the way a field drinks rain — THAT is why it is shaped like that, you fool — and every mound I had insulted was a soft fold of comfort that my homeland, in eight hundred years, never once thought to invent.
"Well?" the waitress asked.
"I judged it," I confessed. "By its appearance. I am ashamed."
"Everybody does, hon."
Everybody does. A national dish that forgives you for doubting it. It expects the doubt. It waits for you on the other side of it.
Do not judge the gravy by its face. Judge yourself, for hesitating.
I order it every Saturday now. I no longer see the construction site. I see only the garden.
It was a garden the whole time. The eye must be trained.
USA. A Southern restaurant. My glass was still half full, and the pitcher was already in motion.
Sweet. Tea. Unrequested. Refilled.
I lifted my hand. "I have not finished this one."
"Oh, hon, I'll just top you off."
Top you off. As if I were a canteen. As if thirst were a hole that must never show daylight.
In my land, tea is poured once, with ceremony, and the guest is left in peace.
Here, the tea is sweet, the pitcher is enormous, and the woman who carries it treats an empty inch of glass like a wound that must be closed immediately.
I drank to be polite. She refilled.
I drank again. She refilled.
My friend watched me drown in hospitality. "Just put your hand over the glass."
Over the glass. Block the kindness. In America, refusing a refill is considered ruder than accepting six.
By the third pitcher I understood the system.
This was not service.
This was a declaration: you are not leaving thirsty on our watch.
The food arrived. I looked at it the way a man looks at land he can no longer reach.
"Y'all good on tea?"
"We are drowning," I said.
"Perfect," she said, and walked away.
I was not hungry. I was not comfortable. I had been defeated by a beverage.
Sweetness that arrives before thirst cannot be refused.
Generosity poured faster than a man can drink cannot be repaid. It can only be survived.
I know the rule now. Hand over the glass. One glass. Two at the most.
Who am I deceiving.
There is no number of refills I would refuse.
The pitcher of this nation is always moving, and I intend to honor all of it.
Morgan Freeman is turning his entire 124-acre ranch in Mississippi into sanctuary for bees.
Alarmed by collapsing bee populations, Freeman decided to act back in 2014. He imported 26 beehives from Arkansas to his ranch in Mississippi and planted fields of clover, lavender, and magnolia – creating a pollinator paradise across the entire property.
What began as a personal hobby quickly became a full-scale conservation effort. Bees pollinate about 80% of the world’s flowering crops – including many fruits, nuts, and vegetables. One healthy colony can pollinate up to 300 million flowers in a single day. Without bees, ecosystems collapse. Food systems follow.
@haveaconcern Actually... No I don't.... Because I blacked out... woke up sleeping in my college dorm's common room. Ah... Those were the days. #Abac#GeeHaw#CollegeLife
@PeterSweden7 Well... That's a scary thought. I wonder if any of those Brits will leave their country to escape religious persecution and the ability of free speech. Wait. 😏 #HistoryRepeatingItself ?
@matt_vanswol The January 2024 Bayside Marketplace/Mall incident. I'm not saying it was 👽 or anything but the media has failed us. 100S of cop cars... 100s of witnesses & not a single news outlet w onsite footage, witness interviews - just NADA. & Nothing since like it never happened.