Candace Echols is a Midtown resident, wife, and mother of five. A regular contributor to The Daily Memphian, she is a freelance writer who also recently published her first book, the children’s book “Josephine and the Quarantine.”
There are 99 articles by Candace Echols :
Candace Echols says The Retreat House is “A place that feels like a massage, a nap, a good book, a cup of coffee and afternoon recess on a countryside playground — all together at the same time.”
Two Memphis schools are now several months into their decisions to go completely phone-free during classroom hours. Last week, Candace Echols checked in with both campuses to see how things are going.
“Seventy-two hours from now, everybody will be in the same boat: The votes will have been cast, and once the votes have been counted, we’ll all know who won. And ... we will all know who lost.”
“What happens in a Memphis marriage if one spouse is committed to staying in this city, but the other spouse is worn out by all that has happened and all they want to do is go?”
“Why has the American adult world gone so nuts over these two fresh pastimes?”
“As utterly wonderful as a place may be, it really is the people who are the heartbeat behind it.” Now the North Carolina mansion is closed indefinitely.
“Thirty-nine of my 46 years have been spent in Memphis. But this week, I have seen five things in Memphis that are all fairly new to me.”
“We don’t ask to be born and are given absolutely no say in the matter. We don’t get to choose our era, our families, our location of birth. One day, we’re just aware that we are and it takes effort to believe that all of human life and existence didn’t start the very same moment I did.”
“We have the capacity to be good neighbors to one another again, even as we continue to work through our collective crime-related trauma and the unpredictable triggers it ushers it to the surface.”
“Women of childbearing age are becoming more and more likely to kick parenthood to the curb. And who can blame them? There’s a government-issued health warning about it.”
The artist who wrote and illustrated the children’s book “Marisol’s Dress” said she hopes the it will help refugee children understand that while their paths have been fraught with difficulty, hope is within reach.
“Paying attention to the world around you and then flapping your lips about it ... starts to feel decidedly one-sided after a while, a bit like talking to yourself out loud for the whole city to hear.”
“Memphis is a fascinating tapestry of subcultures that I suspect is far more complex and nuanced than most of us would ever dream. This is both our bane and our beauty.”
“This parenting journey from crib-to-college goes bizarrely fast. As a mother, I can almost feel as if I’ve been cheated out of something. Mocked. Duped. Ripped off.”
“I have forgotten that outposts are just that – outposts. Outposts offer a roof and a bed and company to the wayfaring stranger, but they are never the final destination.”
“Lately, I’ve been treading in the waters of the mundane. Groceries, laundry, text messages that require responses. Neither a cup of coffee nor the moon have been history lessons that reach backward nor spiritual meditations that reach upward.”
“For several years, I’ve been struggling to pray. For one thing, it’s hard not to get distracted. Thoughts fire this way and that, like ricocheting pinballs.”
“I know I have inherited much of who I am from my dad, who inherited it from his mom. ... The three of us look at life from the same vantage point.”
“There’s something about a good long road trip that creates space for your mind to unwind.”
“In a world that worships youthfulness, it seems counterintuitive that these women would be magnets for those who are younger than they are. But I suspect what they are seeking is something I love too.”
“These are Memphis-only nuances. I never would have noticed them had I not been thinking about writing for fellow Memphians. We all experience these things together as citizens of this particular place.”
“The trunk that reaches to the heavens is telling my family’s story in real time, and real time is passing much more quickly than anyone ever told me it would.”
“When I consider my mother’s version of motherhood, ... I think she can count her wins by what she chose not to do.”
This is an open letter to the woman I had an embarrassingly vigorous yelling match about a parking spot in front of the UPS store on Colonial Road last Tuesday.
“Then you find yourself legitimately considering letting someone slice open your rear to insert a TicTac made of yams that will get you closer to ‘normal,’ whatever that even means.”