Pittie Pile

09/11/2026

I remember when 9/11 happened. I was in seminary, or Bible College as the Christian nationalists like to call it, and we were called into chapel early that morning. We didn’t really understand why. They explained what had happened and then turned on the news on these huge antiquated TVs they had moved into the gymnasium. I sat there with several hundred other students and watched in complete horror.

I couldn’t get the images out of my mind. People standing in shattered windows and then jumping because of what was behind them. I kept trying to put myself in their shoes and understand that kind of fear and complete helplessness. What happens in your mind when you are in that kind of shock and there is literally no good choice left? I cried watching it. I couldn’t help myself. I remember going back to my dorm room and literally being doubled over on the floor crying.

A year or so later I ended up in NYC on one of those trips that just kind of fell in my lap. I remember flying in and seeing the Tribute in Light where the towers had stood. Once we were there I wanted to walk down to Ground Zero. I stood there looking at the flag that had flown on a piece of the recovered steel, listening to the jackhammers and construction going on behind the barriers, and even with all of that rebuilding happening you could still feel the sadness of what had happened there.

I can still feel it 25 years later.

Whether you believe everything happened exactly as we were told, believe something was planned within our own borders, or believe it was purely a cultural attack fueled by hatred, I’m really not interested in debating that today. That’s not my point.

What I am interested in is the evilness that propelled the outcome and the goodness that somehow existed right alongside it.

Because we saw both.

We saw what human beings are capable of doing to each other, but we also saw what human beings are willing to do for each other. Complete strangers helping complete strangers. People running toward something everyone else was trying desperately to escape. People opening their homes, giving blood, searching through rubble and doing whatever they could because another human being needed them.

And maybe that’s the part we need to remember right now.

Because our current situation is bu****it. There is so much chaos, negativity, cruelty, abuse and authoritarian bu****it coming at us constantly that it can make you feel like there isn’t anything you can do about any of it. It’s too big. It’s too loud. It’s too much.

But I don’t believe that.

There is a little spark in each of us that tells us when something isn’t right. That quick thought that says help them. Say something. Check on them. Stand up for them. Do something. Be better.

So what are you going to do with it?

What are you going to do with that small thought or inspiration when it comes? Because there really isn’t anything standing in the way of you being some of the goodness we saw 25 years ago.

We can’t let the overwhelming chaos and negativity and abuse and authoritarian attitudes around us squelch the love and respect and hope and joy that we all deserve. We have an opportunity to push strongly against all of it, but it has to become collective. It takes enough ordinary people deciding they aren’t going to participate in the cruelty and they aren’t going to sit quietly while it happens to somebody else.

You don’t have to save the world. Just don’t ignore your spark.

Do something with it.

It’s time.

09/06/2026

DAY TRIPPIN’ | Eureka Springs 🌈

Yesterday was pretty much a perfect day.

We spent the afternoon on Beaver Lake, watched an incredible Ozark sunset and stayed out late enough to see a sky full of stars.

No real agenda. Just enjoying the lake, the views and being together.

Sometimes you don’t need a big vacation. You just need to get away for a day and enjoy where you are.

Day Trippin Eureka Springs — Eureka Springs, Arkansas

09/05/2026

Day one is officially in the books.

We made the drive, checked into our little home away from home, everybody ate dinner and handled their evening business. Now we’re tucked in for the night — although apparently I’ve acquired a new bed buddy.

After the kind of week we’ve had, there’s something pretty perfect about ending the day like this. No agenda. No rushing. Just all of us together.

Goodnight from the Pittie Pile. ❤️

***d

09/04/2026

After all the emotions and energy that went into closing out our brick & mortar, we decided it was time for a family vote.

The vote was unanimous. We needed a road trip.

So we packed up the car, loaded up Whiz and Whinifred and hit the road for a few days away. No big agenda. Just a chance to get out of town, spend some time together and make some memories.

Although judging by these two, I’m pretty sure Whinifred thinks she planned the whole thing and Whiz is just along for the ride.

Sometimes a change of scenery is exactly what the family needs.

08/17/2026

As I step into Leo month, I’ve been thinking about what it means to be a Leo.

Big emotions. Big statements. Big convictions. And, at least for me, about 95% follow-through. 😂

But every lion needs its counterpart: the lamb.

Not weakness. Not silence. Humility.

There has to be a part of us that remains open enough to admit we don’t know everything. A little innocence. A little teachability. The willingness to experience someone else’s reality before deciding we understand it.

That, to me, is part of the foundation of goodness—and certainly of humanitarianism.

I recently watched a video of a local council member actually making the trip people experiencing homelessness have to make every day to get from the shelter to a cooling center.

She didn’t just talk about it.

She did it.

And unless I’ve missed someone, she is the only local elected official I’ve seen do that. Not the other council members. Not the mayor.

That matters to me.

And some of my progressive and Democratic friends may not like this part:

We have to be willing to reconsider people.

Humanitarianism without humility can become ego very quickly.

“I know what these people need” is ego.

“Show me what you experience” is humility.

The lion gives us the courage to make the big statement.

The lamb gives us enough humility to listen, learn, and change it.

And character?

Character is what we actually do afterward.

Humility over ego. Humanity over politics.

Mayor Lily Wu
Council Member Joseph Shepard — District 1
Council Member Becky Tuttle — District 2
Council Member Mike Hoheisel — District 3
Council Member Dalton Glasscock — District 4
Council Member J.V. Johnston — District 5
Council Member Maggie Ballard — District 6



:::

08/10/2026

As a gay man, I’ve had to wrestle with something painful over the last few years: when does political or religious loyalty become more important than the human beings affected by it?

My husband and I have stepped away from friendships because of this—not simply because someone voted differently. I can disagree about taxes, budgets, immigration policy, or the role of government and still share a table with you. But human dignity becomes much harder for me to treat as just another political disagreement.

The evidence matters. Anti-LGBTQ+ hostility didn’t begin with this administration, and it would be dishonest to claim that it did. But GLAAD documented 1,042 anti-LGBTQ+ incidents in 2025, up from 984 in 2024. More than half of these incidents disproportionately targeted transgender, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming people.

I don’t believe everyone who supports this administration hates LGBTQ+ people. I know people are complicated, and their reasons for voting are complicated. But I do believe we have a responsibility to examine what the institutions we support are doing to other human beings.

That’s also where I struggle with institutional Christianity. When loyalty to a church, political party, tradition, or ideology requires us to look away from the suffering of another person, perhaps the question isn’t whether we’ve defended the institution well enough.

Perhaps the question is whether we’ve loved our neighbor well enough.

08/05/2026

As we sit in our leather-wrapped thrones, watching through our windows as neighbors are arrested or killed because they dared to stand for something, we continue to sip our coffee and read the morning paper.

As gay people, we sit beneath the pergolas attached to our beautifully restored mid-century homes while failing to hear the defamation directed at our transgender brothers and sisters.

As we gather in pristine sanctuaries—buildings we’ve willingly given thousands of dollars to construct—we too often fail to hear those on the streets simply begging for help.

As I sit in my own mid-century home on an oak-lined street, I can’t help but wonder why so many of us don’t become involved until injustice affects someone we know personally. It is a sobering realization that empathy so often waits for proximity—that for many hearts, suffering must first arrive at their own doorstep before it becomes real.

I believe our nation was founded on the idea that our neighbor mattered. It was built on communities that celebrated one another’s successes and carried one another through hardship. Somewhere along the way—perhaps in our pursuit of comfort, convenience, or the promise of giving the next generation an easier life—we discarded something essential.

As I write this, I don’t feel surrounded by community. Too often, support feels transactional, offered only when there’s something to gain in return.

That reality exhausts me.

Our relentless pursuit of more—more success, more wealth, more status—has too often come at the expense of one another. Families have become fragmented. Friendships have become conditional. Honest conversations have become rare because vulnerability has become something to fear instead of something to honor.

If we’re ever going to move beyond the bitterness and division of these past years, it won’t happen through louder arguments or sharper political victories. It will happen through two things: community and vulnerability.

Every side has made mistakes. Every city leader has fallen short at times. Progressive leaders have made mistakes. Conservative leaders have made mistakes. Every movement, every institution, every one of us has something we wish we had done differently.

At some point, someone has to be willing to swallow their pride and simply say, “I was wrong. I made a mistake. Now how do we move forward together?”

Because the question isn’t how I win.

The question is how we heal.

Not as isolated individuals.

But as a community.

As a society.

As neighbors.

07/17/2026

To everyone who joined us for our Founders Circle event tonight… thank you.

Your support has meant more than you know. What we’ve built together has always been about more than furniture—it has been about community, conversation, and creating homes filled with intention.

Watching these pieces begin their next chapter has been bittersweet, but knowing they’ll continue to be loved makes it a little easier.

Tomorrow, our public sale continues with 40% OFF storewide. If you’ve had your eye on something, we’d love to help you find it before it’s gone.

We’ll see you tomorrow.

07/10/2026