Columnist
Dan Conaway is a lifelong Memphian, fascinated and frustrated with his city, but still in love. A columnist since 2010, his distinguished advertising career has branded ribs in the Rendezvous and ducks in The Peabody, pandas in the zoo and Grizzlies in the NBA. Stories in Memphis tend to write themselves. He’s helped a few along. Two book collections of his columns have been published.
There are 332 articles by Dan Conaway :
“And whoever — singular or plural — made the decision to bypass all elected bodies, kneecap the brand-new city mayor and invite Tenn. Gov. Bill Lee to come plant the state flag in City Hall does not speak for us.”
“Lee thinks his voucher program will become a national model. The lies told to get it, and the threats and pressure brought to bear, have already made it a national embarrassment.”
“I got in touch with Harry and told him my idea. Conduct an experiment. Submit my column ‘Pig Ultimate’ to ChatGPT and ask for three different 100-word reviews: one very positive, one negative and one balanced.”
Martavius Jones has just snuck into your house through an unlocked window and stolen a knee replacement from your dark living room.
“If you’re looking for something to look forward to in the New Year, I’ll give you two. Just look up.”
The worn Big Bird and Cookie Monster, the Scotties and Flamingos, the typewriter and macramé angel, the stuff kids made, weren’t for the marketing target audience, they were for us.
“JB Smiley Jr., or any local elected official, has no business in the board rooms of the University of Memphis. If the city council ran the university, chaos would be the only curriculum, and a BS degree would not stand for Bachelor of Science.”
“If something is injuring and assaulting us, if something has become the common denominator in virtually all manner of violent crime, if something aids criminals ... if something is killing us, the city council’s job is to do something about it now.”
AI already knows too much, and the controlled application of that knowledge is everything.
A chance encounter reminds that this is a time for the arrival of hope — at breakfast counters and in hearts.
“No state, not one, has ever rejected this federal education funding. No state. Not one.”
“I have three Addys, the national award the American Advertising Federation considers their Emmy. Not an Emmy.”
“I see little of more importance to the future of our country and our civilization than full recognition of the place of the artist.”
Cas Walker wasn’t in denial about his outrageous business practices and politics, he knew they were outrageous, and he was proud of every one of them.
We’ll do it again. And we’ll be loud. And we’ll enjoy it. I may even try one of those three-egg omelet things, but they can keep the raspberry mocha.
“What weakens our heart and denies our soul destroys us all. What actions taken by the state that threaten the well-being of the least of us, ultimately threaten all of us.”
A sense of, “I can make it,” “I can change it,” “I can create it,” because the most ordinary of origins have sent such extra extraordinary gifts to the world from here.
“Liberty? This city was in rebellion against the United States and taken by force by the United States armed forces. Liberty? We were officially a slave city in a slave state.”
“You have pneumonia,” he said, “double viral pneumonia.”
Amazingly, my physician not only doesn’t condemn the list or even remain neutral. We actually fondly discuss several things on the list in the examining room — the place where the net result of the list is most evident.
Fair or not, the next few weeks are critical to Mayor Jim Strickland’s legacy and will leave an ugly mark or deliver a bright promise.
We were very proud of the baby that came out of that room, out of a whole lot of rooms and minds and hearts, a whole city’s baby.
When 12% of the voters can put a candidate in the top four or five, the votes in your Friday night poker game could put somebody over the top.
There is no better time to tell our own state, and the rest of the country, that we are a city that cannot be bought by the people who make the bullets and the guns that are killing us.
“We met a month before at the spring-fed pool at Allison’s Wells, a fading Southern Belle of a place — sort of resort, part art colony, part retreat from change deep in the Mississippi woods outside of Canton.”