Love

Reading, Winter, and the Future

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Greetings, all! It has been an eventful couple of weeks since my last post. I have been working tirelessly on my newest piece, Mother Mine as well as reading pretty steadily. I’ve gotten through some good books, and have also hit a string of rather “not for me” DNF titles that went straight to my eBay store (https://ebay.us/m/9MEKYC for anyone who wants to check out my long list of titles and merch). That’s one of the things about thrifting and being addicted to buying books and giving them a new home – sometimes you can’t tell they aren’t quite for you based just on the description on the jacket.

In reality, a lot of life is like that. You look at certain experiences, foods, events, places to go, and so on, and think “man, this seems right up my alley.” Then, once you get there, once you have your hands immersed in that thing or event you realize that it isn’t all you thought it would be. It’s hard to accept that something you thought you wanted is not quite it, but sometimes it really is for the best.

I’ve had plenty of things that fit that bill. Getting closure on my dad’s abandonment, working in the theatre program at my school, and going to bed early, to name a few. The thing about diving into those things, or at least the search for them, is that I allowed myself a chance. Just like reading those books that might sound cool on a whim, trying new things is important. Giving yourself over to new experiences, getting a bit of vulnerability in the day-to-day, is irrevocably important for personal growth.

What it really boils down to a lot of the time is a mix of being willing to admit that you are not already at your absolute best (who among us has no hopes of a better job, more travel, a better salary, etc.) and being willing to leave your comfort zone to get to that higher level of existence. It’s wild when you think about it. Waking up in the morning and knowing that you want to do something new, even if it may not necessarily turn out to be “better” is beautifully freeing.

You have to be willing to turn things around in life. Read the book that may not be in your preferred genre, travel to a new place or in a new way, break into new experiences and new modes of life. Don’t ever limit yourself to what you know, or what you already have. That’s not to say that you need to dig into your subconscious and find things to be unhappy about. If you can’t think of anything new you want, even if it’s just a new recipe or a new pair of pants, then maybe you HAVE already reached that new level of personal enlightenment. And that’s nothing to turn your nose up at.

As mentioned before, I’ve been working on Mother Mine, and it is going swimmingly. I broke into a second notebook yesterday and am in the midst of a scene that gives me chills. There’s something special about this one (which I think about all of my books/stories/poems, but that’s beside the point). I look very forward to sharing it with you all ASAP.

Regarding this entire post and the future element I mentioned in my title, we have been looking into new events to try selling my wares at. Amanda is the best manager, of course, and she has helped find tons of horror, fantasy, book, and nerd-themed events around us that look like great places to take my work. I’ve only been doing closer events, mostly themed around Appalachian crafts, etc., and, as awesome as that is, it doesn’t exactly open up the full potential for finding my audience. My hope is that jumping in on these horror-themed events will bring a larger audience to my writing and really get my name out there. As I get confirmation on these events, I will be updating my events page on my website, and I’d love to have as many people who read my blog come out and meet me, say hello, grab a book, and just chat about all things horror and awesome. Immense thanks to my awesome wife for her continued encouragement, and to everyone who has been supportive of my writing. Knowing I have people in my corner who understand and encourage my calling is something I call on any time I feel down about not riding the bestseller list yet. I know that God’s purpose for my life is writing, and the spread of my work and my name are about His timeline, not my own.

So, I am going to use the second snow day of this week to write more, to look at and apply for more events, and to write a new round of letters for my pen pal group. The group, although slowing in momentum a touch, is still a great experience. I love writing letters to people from as far and wide as possible, chatting about how life goes, and doing anything to break away from the world of instant gratification that has taken away the intimacy and importance of things like letter writing and written communication. Anyone interested in joining the group, please check us out on Facebook and write letters to anyone and everyone you’d like. You can go to the page here. If you want to allow everyone on the page to write to you, feel free to leave your address in the pinned comment at the top of the page, but if you want to be selective about who you communicate with, just look through that list and pick people who match your interests, etc. With luck, this group will go international and allow us to have real, classic pen pal communication. I’d love to reach out and talk to people all around the globe, so by all means, please help me do that. If you love literature, horror, fantasy, food, travel, photography, and life in general, write me! Let’s kick letter writing back into one of the most cherished forms of communication.

In the meantime, everyone, I challenge you all to do at least one new thing this week. Let yourself embrace the fun in life. And if anyone tries to get in the way, just laugh them off while you grow and live. It’ll be worth it.

The Toxic Goths and Wuthering Heights

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

I will be the first to admit that it is a bit of a shame that I was in my 30s before I really sat down to read the epic that is Wuthering Heights. I have long been obsessed with period literature and, of course, I have done extensive work in the era of Gothic literature of all kinds. This is one that, somehow, repeatedly slipped out of my grasp, though.

With the upcoming release of the newest cinematic version of the film in all it’s Hollywood hyper-sexed looking glory, I felt it was high time to rectify that mistake. I have owned a copy of the book for a while, discovered sometime last year (or earlier) in my thrifting missions, so I dug it out and dove in around the first of the month.

I was immediately drawn in by Bronte’s writing, the dark moors and the brusque mannerisms of our good master Heathcliff bringing me immediately into the fold. Not knowing fully what to expect, the reading went fairly quickly, but I want to be very up front in saying that I found it very difficult to like … well … pretty much anyone.

From Catherine’s ever-eager and dismissively bratty nature, to Heathcliff’s very embodiment of toxic masculinity and downright brutish human evil, there was no one I could root for here. The love itself that both of them felt was one of the most powerful of literary sentiments I have read in quite some time, of course. Bronte did an amazing job of putting two unlikeable people into a situation where neither of them could win for causing each other, and themselves, to lose. Catherine’s affirmation that she could not exist without Healthcliff, despite his brutish nature and his downright blatant insistence that his own pride was more important than being there with and for her for years is intense, but also shows a lot of what is wrong with the classic literary depiction of love.

All too often in books (as well as films and, let’s face it, life itself) our female lead is drawn into a sort of infatuation with a person who is simply garbage. Why it becomes a sort of romantic rampart that women (or anyone) should cast themselves upon the blade of someone who treats them horribly, I can not fathom. It is not a good quality in a lover or a significant other that every time you speak to them it becomes a fight where you grow so faint your heart threatens to stop. Yet, time and time again, this is the standard literary love is held to. Why?

To turn in a different direction before this post takes on a life of its own filled with lectures no one wants, let me jump into Bronte’s language. It was, of course, nearly 200 years ago, but one thing that did throw me off was her repeated leaps into Joseph’s brogue. Vernacular is wonderful, and it should be held to a high standard in writing, but it does not have to be done quite to that extent. As I said, I know it was 200 years ago, but that is something that pulled from the story a lot. Any time there was an extended bit of dialogue from Joseph, or, rather, Ellen’s repetition of it, the use of heavy vernacular and nearly unintelligible language on the page made me pause several times to work out what was being said. Could it have been any different for readers when the book was fresh?

As I said, vernacular is incredibly important, and I use it myself. I understand how nice it is for readers of Southern literature to recognize a nice twang on the page, or for a Cockney reader to recognize their own twists of phrase, but for entire paragraphs to look so out of place? It was a certain grounder for me.

The story itself, coming to us in the form of a relay from our narrator who had it in turn relayed to him from someone who lived it or read it, was honestly like a bit of a telephone game. In its own right, that puts me in the mind of a bit of a potential unreliable narrator. I am a bit of a sucker for an unreliable narrator, as many of you know, so I do eat that up. With Lockwood admitting that he was feverish during much of the retelling (as well as the general malaise of being in a strange house during a winter storm in his initial “supernatural” encounter with Catherine), there is much to be said about the entire story being false or blown out of proportion. I am aware that, of course, would likely not be much of a popular opinion given the historic love of the book, but the idea that this man had a polite old housemaid telling him a story of her former masters – or even a story that she herself makes up to calm a sick man – and he blew it even further out of proportion in his retelling makes me absolutely salivate to think of.

Heathcliff. There is so much I can say about the man whom this book centers around. From a wayward youth who never quite fits in, to a man who does his best to seem the devil’s own plaything in adulthood, he oozes toxic behavior. I would say toxic masculinity, but I don’t think even Heathcliff fits quite that pathetic of a bill. He has a huge chip on his shoulder through most of the book, being more than willing to spite anyone and everyone, including his beloved Catherine, no matter what they are doing or saying to or about him. No one is good enough for him, because they make him feel he is not good enough for them more often than not. Granted, this does not excuse his behavior in any way. For, if nothing else, being treated poorly by others should show him exactly how NOT to act, but I digress.

As I said earlier, even his precious Cathy is not free from the evil Heathcliff works in the world, from his abandonment of her, to his overbearing weight of hatred that comes to Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange on his mysterious return. Heathcliff is not necessarily deserving of the pain and mistreatment he is given as a lad, but he absolutely deserves every ounce of pain and punishment rendered him as an adult. To his treatment of Cathy even on her deathbed, to the way he mistreats Isabella (not even mentioning the underlying insinuations of SA and who knows what other abuse she suffers at his hand before her escape), and the way he treats every single young person in the book, he is simply an asshole. Plain and simple. King jerk of the world of jerks. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy him. He has his moments, not withstanding. Specifically his unknown background and the fact that he does somehow feel Catherine’s spirit close to him after her death. From wandering on the moors, to frequenting graveyards at night, there are redeeming elements of creep factor that I do appreciate.

Jumping on to the discussion of Catherine herself, the fact that her love was not strong enough for her to stand up for Heathcliff as a child. Or wait for him. Or look for him. Or ask her husband not to be an ass to him. Or any of the other things she could have done that might also have altered the evil man’s own reaction to the world and the people around him… it was somehow strong enough that she haunted his every moment and made him all the more miserable and sanctimonious after her death – even seemingly showing up to visually haunt him on his last day. She herself was always the prissy, bratty, horrible example of a spoiled child who refuses to budge for the world, but expects the world to bend and break for her, so it is no wonder she got her just desserts. I feel no sympathy for her, frankly.

Finally, coming full circle, the main thing I want to say is that I did enjoy the book. Despite my misgivings of the characters, the hyped up love, the disgusting character development and the painful language… It’s a book I will likely read again. While, I recognize that most high school readers would likely care nothing for the book, I do hope that I can fit it into a college course on Gothic Literature one day. Overall, the book stands the test of time in many ways, and is definitely deserving of study. I don’t know that I agree with the claims that it depicts the love story that all other love stories should be built from, but I can respect the care Heathcliff and Cathy had for each other. Maybe they just needed someone to tell them how to show it.

A Year After Knowing

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

It’s odd, writing this blog post, to be honest. Through most of my life, I spent more time than I should wondering about my biological dad. Where is he? What is he doing? Does he think about me? Does it even matter? Then, a little over a year ago, I got a message from a cousin that he was dead. No more chances at reconnecting. No more half-assed excuses on the off chance I did get up with him. No more confusion about whether the numbers or addresses I had were no longer valid or if I was being ignored. In essence, if he was in the ground, at least I knew where he was.

That’s a harsh reality, sure, but from a man who had never had the security of knowing where one half of his biological makeup was, it did bring me some sick comfort. I would never again have to look at a passing car and wonder if HE was in it. Never again get a hang-up call and wonder if my answers were on the other end.

What has replaced those curiosities, however, is a certainty that I won’t get those answers. My biological grandmother and uncle have made no efforts to reach out to me since the funeral I attended (where one wasn’t in attendance and one had to look at the guest book to even know who I was). Not that I really expected to hear anything.

Sure, in a perfect world, there would have been some letter he never sent, or some journal entry that talked about the choices he made. Maybe he had some explanation that was supposed to be sent to me after his death. But, no. This isn’t a spy movie. He wasn’t a man who explained himself. He was just… a bad person.

I don’t know that he stole, or murdered, or did anything we usually think classifies someone as a bad person. Nothing like that. But, I do know what he did. He lied to his child, abandoned his child. Handed over the reins to a single mother who did her best, as best she could, at least. But, as an adult, a teacher, a grown man who understands responsibilities and mental health, I can safely say he was not a good man. The choices he made may have been what he, in some way, thought to be best, and maybe they were. I have heard from more than one person with knowledge of that side of my family tree that him being a part of my life would almost certainly have prevented me from being a successful human. Maybe that is the case. I don’t know.

What I do know is what it taught me. There is never an excuse for making a child think they have done something to push you away. There is no reason good enough to choose to leave behind a kid who knows no better than to rely on you, to trust you. Disappearing from someone’s life may seem like a valid option to an extremely selfish person, but that only shows how truly self-centered you are. No matter the cause, no matter the outcome, responsibilities run deeper than that for a truly good person.

I think that is one reason I strive so hard to show my students that I am there for them. I teach in a region where poverty is the norm, where single-parent households are increasingly more common, and where some people do not know their parents at all. Because of this, I make it a point to be reliable. Whether that is through grading, lessons, or being there to listen when they are having a bad day. No student leaves my classroom thinking they are unimportant if I am doing my job right.

Should my wife and I have children, the same will go for them. No matter the lack of closure, the lack of “this is how you do things” type lessons I got from my biological dad, no matter the one-sided nature of my female-centered upbringing, I know how to be different. Scotty taught me, through omission, the exact way to be sure no child I have will feel like I did.

When I started my teaching journey almost 6 years ago, I knew the first thing I needed to do was work on those elements of trust and care. Now, teaching at my Alma Mater, I can remember (and actually work with) some of the teachers who showed me that same respect and care. It makes a difference. A year after realizing I will never know why Scotty made the decisions he did, I feel all the more confident in being the person I am. I feel I have made the right choice in building those elements of care and trust with my wife, my friends, my students, my coworkers, anyone who may need to know – even just for one day or just one minute – that they are not alone.

That’s what it all comes down to, right? No matter who we are, what we are going through, everything seems like it is just a little more bearable if we know we aren’t alone. That’s why I’m here. And I always will be for anyone who needs me.

Coming to Terms

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

I went to the visitation service for my biological father last night. I’m not at all sure what I expected to happen there, but it was certainly not the way things went. Or maybe it was.

For those of you who don’t know, I was raised in a single parent household because my father made his own choices. Those choices did not involve me. Through the years I have made an abundance of attempts to reach out to him and create some sort of relationship, against the advice and better judgement of pretty much everyone around me. For a little while at one point it worked. When I was 12 I convinced my mother to take me to his adoptive parents house and ask about him. This resulted in his nephew taking us directly to his house and we began forming what I hoped would be a real friendship, if nothing else.

It may have lasted a year. During that time we went to a few movies, ate a couple of meals. he bought me an action figure or two and I paid for at least one of those movies with saved allowance. Of course, toward the end of this period of time as we were driving him back to his home he asked to stop at a convenience store and borrowed money from me for a beer. I probably should have known.

Not long after that the contact stopped. Again, his choice, not mine. He stopped answering calls and letters. Faded into the distance again with no explanation or excuses.

For five years I didn’t know if he was alive or dead until we received a letter from the state that he had been summoned to court for back child support. The state’s choice. Not ours. So, at the age of 17, I convinced my mother to go with me to the courthouse and see if he showed. Surprisingly he did. He was told to pay, said he would, walked out the door with barely a glance in my direction, but I followed. I shouted for him and watched as he thought about walking on and getting in the car as if he hadn’t heard me.

But he stopped. He turned around and came back with his shark-toothed grin and made me feel like he was happy to see me. More empty promises of future contact, blank apologies for a lack of communication, and we went our separate ways.

I never heard from him again.

For nearly 18 years I went without a single word from him. Nearly as long without any word about him, save the mention of him given by his brother after the man found me online. I could have had a child of my own in that time, and watched them grow to be the age I had been the last time I laid eyes on the man who contributed to my DNA. I know damn well I would have treated that child a lot better than I had ever been treated.

Several times during those 18 years I attempted contact again, including one shameful time when I went to his house and knocked on his door. As I looked at the window I saw him looking back out at me before the woman he lived with opened the door and told me he wasn’t there.

I told myself that was it. I had done more than enough. But, it didn’t stop me from sending some last ditch letters. Or from making a phone call after my grandmother passed. A phone call that asked me to leave a message on a voicemail that had his name on it. I told him I wanted nothing from him, no money, no goods, I just wanted to speak to him. Even once.

I won’t even pretend I was surprised when the call wasn’t returned. Or that the next time I tried the number it had been disconnected/my number was blocked.

That time it really was over. I stopped trying. I won’t pretend I hadn’t thought about trying again, but I hadn’t. I had no clue if the man was alive or dead, if he had other children, if he thought about me. I knew nothing. Until I got the message last week that he was actually dead.

If you haven’t lost a parent, I’m glad. It has been something of a whirlwind for me, and nothing like the standard I’m sure. In talking to friends who have reached out, I do realize how many of us have a non-standard (read non-glamorous, non-Hollywood, non-cookie-cutter) relationship with our parents, so I definitely know many of you will know what I mean. A parent who has been nothing but a repeated disappointment, who you truly had no relationship with despite your best efforts, suddenly passing, is still quite a shock.

As I said, I went to the service last night. A more than two hour drive from where I work and nearly the same back to my house. To say I was nervous is an understatement. I have always hated funeral homes and hospitals, and this made that even worse. But I went. I’ve asked myself why it was important that I do so, and others have wondered the same, and I think the full truth is exactly what I said from the start. This is the only time I have had full control over the way this relationship ended. I never got to say my goodbyes. I never got to be the one to really choose how things would progress, or whether they would progress.

Sure, I had decided to stop trying to reach out, but that was really tantamount to deciding to stop pounding a closed door and let my bloodied knuckles heal. It was already sealed. I merely gave in to the choice of others. No, this time I was the one who had the final say. So I went to the service. It took a while to work up the gumption to walk in, but I did it. Amanda and I were 2 of the 7 people there for the man who had isolated himself from his flesh and blood. I will never be able to thank her enough for putting herself through that for me, for supporting me in what she knew was a lost cause. Having her by my side was the only thing that kept me from losing my grip, as it so often is.

When I went to the casket he looked so different from the man I remember, the man who I have maybe three pictures of, that I was worried we were in the wrong chapel. But it was him. His mother was there. My grandmother. Whom I hadn’t seen in probably 25 or more years. She had to subtly walk to the sign-in book to see if I was who she thought I was, but she came up to me and spoke. Told me she knew the effort I had put in, but chalked it up with the true Appalachian “you know how he was.”

No, ma’am. I do not know how he was. He made sure of that. You all made sure of that. I know next to nothing about the man. Even the things my own mother can tell me about the father of her child is little more than three decade old facts. How much of that changed? How much different was the stranger in that box who made sure I never had a chance to know any version of him from the 22 year old she had once cared for? I have no idea. And, given the likelihood those who have chosen not to reach out in the past will continue on that trend, I may never know.

Not once did my grandmother ask about me, my life, my wellbeing. Would it matter to her? No. Just shrugging off the way her son had behaved the same way he shrugged off his own child. I can’t pretend I’m not upset by it all, but I finally am at a point where I can truly say I did everything I possibly could. I will be able to go to sleep tonight and every night knowing I never closed the door on my father, though I likely should have. At the end of the day I was able to say goodbye on my own terms, something that feels as close to satisfaction regarding the matter that I may ever get.

Anchoring in Hope

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

One of the hardest things about a tired morning, especially a tired Monday, is maintaining (or even finding at all) a positive outlook on the day. We all know the weekends are never long enough and the idea of a 40+ hour work week seems longest after we crawl out of bed on that first day. Granted, I won’t for a minute pretend that I’m not a morning person, as my wife will sleepily remind me of as I’m chattering away ere the sun deigns to show his fiery face over our lovely mountains. I also might point out that I tend to be even more of a night owl, with the occasional bout of mid-afternoon lethargy, but that’s a whole different story. This morning was no different.

On this incredible Monday morning I found myself waking up to a few images from my cover designer (the ever incredible Mollie Estep) for the upcoming Blood and Moonlight, and looking forward to the prospect of my second full week in the return to teaching high school English. With the plan to decorate my classroom with some old and new items as well as introduce some of my students to the dark and twisted works of Edgar Allan Poe, I was feeling pretty darn good. I realized last night while preparing for the week that, for the first time in a long time, I was not feeling any of the dread or questioning that had followed the last year and a half or more of my previous teaching job. I loved the students I worked with at that school, and the difference I made in their lives is something I am so thankful for I can’t put it into words. There were, as always, underlying factors, however.

With the job I have just started, my (hopefully) triumphant return to the world of secondary education, I feel a new and powerful positivity. I feel almost certain that I am in the right place. I love feeling that way with a job or with any task I am working on. It makes it that much easier to put your all into something you feel RIGHT about, doesn’t it? That’s kind of where my mind was as I rode the beautiful, rain-damp roads into Wise this morning, my current audiobook humming right along. I felt good. Right. As the drive went on, carrying me closer to my current home away from home, my eyes looked to the right of my vehicle, almost unguided. There, less than a mile away from me, I saw the absolutely stunning sight of an early morning rainbow. I hadn’t realized while I was driving that in the valley ahead of me, which I was about to drive into, was experiencing a rain shower. All around me the sun was beaming down on the world in wonder and magnificence, and to my right glimmered this incredible symbol of hope, meaning, and love. It couldn’t have been a better sign for me.

If you’ve been around for a while, you know I’m a big believer in signs and guidance from God and the universe. I give all credit to God for my gifts and talents as a writer and a teacher, and I can’t express enough just how thankful I am to have the blessing to be able to do these things with my life. Seeing that rainbow this morning made an incredible peace come over me and reminded me again that I am on the right path. Sometimes we all need that reminder. I’ve been hard on myself lately about how little I have been able to write this year and how some things haven’t gone the way I planned. But that’s life. I’ve always heard if you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans. Whether you are a believer in God or not, one thing we can all relate to is that the universe is not always one to fall in line with our intentions. Regardless of what purpose we have behind our motivations and hopes and dreams, sometimes it just doesn’t happen. And there is nothing wrong with that.

As soon as I was able to come to a quick stop I snapped a photo of the now-fading rainbow as a reminder of the powerful feelings in my mind. I’m keeping that rainbow with me this morning as I ponder over all the things that have gone not exactly according to plan to put me right where I am today. Between job changes, family issues, even changes in my education plan, things have not stayed the way I had them mapped out in my mind for quite some time now. But I have been blessed beyond measure. I have my best friend by my side every day of my life, and I could not be more thankful for the experiences we have shared – even if they have been surprises to us both at the time. Looking at all of that, and looking at the hopeful plans I have for the rest of the year I can’t help but keep thinking of that rainbow. That promise. That image that holds so much meaning and so much love for so many people around the world. In my heart and my mind, that sight always tells me I’m going to be OK. No matter what is thrown at me, no matter how hard some days may be, if I keep that image of hope and love in mind everything will be fine. I think that’s why the rainbow means so much to so many people, as well. The merging and unification of so many colors in the spectrum, so many things that nature combines so perfectly, is intended to remind us that it’s OK. Whatever is going on, it isn’t going to hold us back or hold us up forever.

What I’m trying to say with all of this is that we all need our rainbow. Whether we’re feeling positive or negative about whatever situation we’re in, we need something to remind us that good is coming or that it is OK to allow ourselves to be happy. That’s something that sometimes seems hardest of all, I think. With the amount of things that go wrong every day, with all of the trauma we all have seen or been through, the idea that it is OK to be happy can be hardest to grasp. Take it from someone who has struggled to find that permission within himself on and off for decades. Whatever is going on and whatever you have been through, it really is OK to be happy. It’s OK to have hope. Find your rainbow today, whatever it is. The world isn’t always a horrible place. I hope this message can reach someone who needs it, whether it’s today or 100 years in the future. The point remains the same for me. You matter. You are allowed to feel what you feel. And you CAN make it through the hard times. The sun will always come back out eventually.

Summer of Fun

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Happy Summer, everyone! I hope you’ve all been doing well this year as things slowly slip into a semblance of an old version of “normal.” We have seen several changes lately, not the least of which is adjusting to a move and getting into the swing of Summer.

This summer has also seen plenty of book signings, with several more lined up, and I couldn’t be more thankful. I have been blessed to be able to share my work with a large number of my Appalachian neighbors and beyond, and it is fantastic knowing people are out there reading my work. I can only hope I am providing a good quality bit of summer reading material!

On another note, I am pleased to say I have been hard at work on producing a sequel to last year’s hit “Moonlight,” and I have been diving into round one of edits for my newly completed fantasy novel, for which I can’t settle on a title. Things are looking very interesting and productive in the near future and I am excited to continue sharing that progress with you all.

Finally, the biggest reason I am bouncing off the walls right now is that I am two days away from my one year anniversary with my incredible wife. She has helped make me happier than I have ever been. I can never repay the support and love she gives every single day. She has been by my side at every single event and signing I have had all summer and she continues to encourage me to produce new work and publish new material. She makes sure we are always looking at the positive things around us, keeps me on my toes, and never ceases to dazzle and impress me with the wonderful job she does every single day.

On top of doing all that, and working tirelessly with me to move and get everything set up in our new place, she planned our upcoming honeymoon/anniversary cruise that we’ve been yearning for! Because of God’s grace and my wife’s tireless dedication, we are embarking our first Carnival cruise on the exact day of our one year anniversary! We will be seeing most every state in the southeastern U.S. on the journey to port, and we will stop in the Bahamas as well as the Dominican Republic on the ship! We are so thankful for this opportunity and I can’t wait to share the experience with my favorite person in the world, and share the memories and inspiration it brings with all of you!

Needless to say, the last 12 months have been the best of my life, and I absolutely can not wait to see what the rest of our lives have in store for us. From travel, to laughter and great days at home, every second with you is an adventure, honey. Thank you for being amazing!

So what do you all have in store for the rest of the summer? Any vacations coming back to the schedule, or are you taking some time to relax at home? Feel free to share anything at all, and be sure to check out my events page to see where my next appearance is going to be. As of now I’ll be spending 3 days at the Virginia Highlands Festival in Abingdon, VA. during the week of July 25-31 so come on out!

Celebrating Christmas in the Smokies

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Hello everyone! I hope 2021 has been a great adventure for everyone so far. One thing we want to be able to do with our travel and lifestyle series here at The Mathews Experience is discuss some of the great adventures and fun times we get to have. Of course, with the current climate, work, the seasons, and general lack of time, travel just hasn’t happened much so far this year. So, to remedy that, we want to take some time to talk about some of our past adventures. The most recent one we had took us to one of our favorite places in the world; the Great Smoky Mountains!

Amanda and I left from our mountain home around the middle of December and went to our mountain home away from home to celebrate the Christmas season and get a nice break from everyday life. The trip began with a fantastic drive, with plenty of great holiday music and fun conversation. Once we arrived in the Smokies we were immersed in the season, with lights on every available space they could be strung or placed, and holiday music coming from every speaker in existence. Despite not having a fresh blanket of snow on every surface we looked at, it was a Winter Wonderland.

While on this trip we found ourselves staying on the Gatlinburg parkway, so close to most of the attractions we were interested in we didn’t even move our vehicle to get to most places. Walking on the parkway was an enjoyable experience. There was quite a crowd most of the time, but the vast majority of people we saw were wearing their masks and making at least some effort to maintain distance from anyone they weren’t with. From the smells of food coming from every restaurant, to the sounds of Christmas, and the decorations surrounding us, we were definitely greeted by that mountain holiday feeling we were looking for.

While trying to cram as much Smokies experience as we could in our short trip, we decided to go to Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies and see the fish and fun there. We managed to arrive at a time when the aquarium was almost empty, and were one of the few customers wandering the aquatic wonderland. The whole place was decked out in holiday decorations, with ornaments and lights everywhere, even in several displays. It was very easy to take our time and look at all the various exhibits without being rushed – or being held back by crowds. This was, perhaps, one of the most peaceful aquarium trips either of us had ever experienced. The only down side being that we did not get to see the beautiful Green Sea Turtle, Sally, despite making our way through the Shark Tunnel twice. No matter! We saw plenty of awesome sea life, including a couple of baby Bonnethead sharks, so our trip was a great one.

Not to play favorites among the Ripley’s attractions nestled into the foothills of the Smokies, we also made our way to the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! Museum to see the wonderous exhibits there. This attraction also did not disappoint. Though a little more crowded, most everyone in attendance was sure to maintain a respectful distance and be cautious with their masks, which is something you really can’t be too careful with during such a time. The displays, however, were a little surprising in that some of the interactive ones were still uncovered and in working order. Some of the more hands-on ones were, of course, roped off or closed to the public, but there were several exhibits that had a button or switch you could use to turn this light on or uncover that bizarre fact, etc.. and several of them were nowhere near a sanitizing station. We also did not notice many employees coming by to clean as often as we would have expected, but we were more than prepared with our own wipes and sanitizers. None of that took away from our trip, but it was worth noting. The entire museum was enjoyable to us, particularly the large matchstick model of Hogwarts, and (for me at least) the shrunken head exhibits and the Devil and the Damsel rotating statue, based on the German epic poem, Faust.

The highlight of our trip, and reason behind it, was Dollywood’s Smoky Mountain Christmas. The day started with a nice breakfast at Crockett’s Breakfast Camp and such a massive amount of food that much of it went home with us. The quality of the meal was very good, and the environment, made to look like a novelty lumber camp of the 1800s, was quite appealing to me. From there we made our way to the park to bask in the down-home holiday traditions of those amazing mountains. From the second we got to the entrance to the park we felt the spirit of the holidays and the happiness of the park everywhere. Despite the cold, we were in awe at the millions of lights and fun displays that adorned the buildings and trees, filled the windows, and lit the park with every color imaginable. We started our Dollywood experience with a classic ride through the mountains on the Dollywood Express. Once a free for all, now the conductor requires tickets to board the train, which you can get from an employee for pretty much any scheduled time through the day. We felt this was a definite benefit and a way to, hopefully, help people maintain distance by limiting the amount of people who climb aboard the old passenger train.

Following along behind that old steam engine, we got to see the massive park from all angles, catching glimpses of rides in progress, lights on display, even the newer developments that are almost always happening these days. It was a great, if frigid, way to start our Dollywood day. Most of the rides we wanted to go on were either down due to the weather, or had some very long lines, but we were able to cover nearly every inch of the park – and I’ve got the photos and video to show it! We were very impressed by the level of professionalism shown by the in-park retail locations and restaurants, many of which seemed to have one door designated as an entrance and another as an exit only, which kept the lines of customers flowing in one solid direction for the most part. We stayed in the park from opening (around 2) until after dark, loving the lights and the holiday celebration, but absolutely wore ourselves out walking around the park. Between grabbing a bite to eats at Red’s Drive-In and finishing our day by buying a little Dolly-approved merchandise, the park was absolutely fantastic. With the changes that take place from one year to the next, I think we will be happy to return year after year to see the wonderful Christmas displays and experience the warm Christmas spirit.

One of the last things I must mention about this trip was our great dinner at Dolly Parton’s Stampede. It had been years since either of us had ever been, but the show did not disappoint. This was one of the few places we ran into people who were a little reluctant to follow mask regulations, but it did not ruin our experience by any means. With a fantastic four-course Southern meal and a heart-warming show filled with positive messages and good, fun comedy, it was a great night for us. Overall, the trip was one that we will not soon forget and will hopefully only improve upon as years go by.

January is nearly over, which means we will hopefully have some warm weather to travel by soon, so keep your eyes open for more content. Follow our social media pages, and see the flashbacks of our past trips continue to roll out as we prepare for plenty of new adventures. In the meantime, feel free to share any great experiences you all have, or places you suggest we add to our list!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Merry Christmas, everyone!! I know this year has been difficult, and the holidays can sometimes be stressful, but I hope you will all take the time to cherish the good things today and every day for the rest of this year – no matter what holidays you celebrate (or don’t).

Personally, I have had an excellent Christmas with my wife here in our snowy mountain home. I am beyond ecstatic that our first Christmas as husband and wife has been a white one and a happy one. All things considered, the blessings we have been able to enjoy this year have given me so much to be thankful for.

Our Christmas adventure has shown us a lot of excitement, a lot of smiles, and a lot of joy- and it isn’t over yet! Tomorrow will be yet another happy day of celebration for us. I know a lot of people haven’t been able to celebrate with their loved ones this year, and many traditions have been put on hold or altered to meet the current state of affairs, but I hope everyone has been able to draw a bit of joy from the holiday. With luck next year will bring a return to the things we have enjoyed in the past, hopefully with an added sense of appreciation and love for those traditions.

Whatever your holiday brought to you, however you were able to celebrate, I sincerely hope love and peace met each and every one of you. Do your best to enjoy the rest of this day and this last week of 2020!

That Thankful Time of Year

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Greetings and Happy Thanksgiving from the Appalachian Mountains, everyone! That time of year where we are encouraged to give thanks and be vocal about the things that matter to us is once again upon us. I am well aware, of course, that this year looks very different from what we are used to. In many places, a holiday that usually involves multiple generations of family and friends gathered together, is being limited to less than 10 people under one roof, some local law enforcement threatening the penalty of fines or worse. Fear of illness, hatred, political unrest, or general unhappiness are rampant in tons of us, but we are still hopeful. We are still dreaming. We are still pushing forward. And we are still thankful.

That, to me, is the important part, the part that honestly makes me see a glimmer of hope for the world as a whole. Despite the things making us unhappy or scared regarding the simplest tasks now, many people are standing tall and shouting their thanks for the things they have. What’s more, in my area especially, I have seen an incredible influx of people willing to give to others. The current state of the world has left a lot of people uprooted, unstable, unable to provide for their families in a consistent way. In response to that, there have been a number of food drives and donations made to families who could use the extra help. That is simply phenomenal. In a world where so many people seem to have lost the basic understanding of care and love for their fellow man, to see so many people leaping at the chance to help the less fortunate is something that we should all be thankful for.

It goes without saying that 2020 has been a tough year for many people, but we all have plenty to be thankful for. Personally, this year has been the absolute happiest of my life. I got engaged and married to the woman of my dreams and I get to wake up next to the love of my life every day, I finally have a teaching job (something I have worked toward for nearly as long as I have been writing), I have started countless new works, been to some new places, I have a new book coming out very soon so keep your eyes open for that, and there is also a brand new AC/DC album to rock out to. Needless to say, I have plenty to be happy about. Does that stop me from being a little down and depressed at times? It absolutely does not, but it means I have plenty to focus on to bring me back from the darkness.

In essence, that is the importance of days like today. Thanksgiving encourages people to reflect on their lives and look at the many gifts and blessings they have in everday life. We see pop culture references of the classic nuclear family, the group of friends, even the non-conformist family group all gathered around sharing at least one thing they are thankful for, and it is fantastic. The idea that we can gather with our loved ones and truly share one of our reasons for being thankful and happy is one that warms my heart, even if this year sees us doing that virtually. In solidarity, I offer one of my own happinesseses, which is the the undying love and support from my wife. Knowing she is on my side has helped me through so much, and gives me incredible happiness. What is something you all are thankful for? Feel free to add a comment or send me a message to share.

One problem I do have with the way people interpret Thanksgiving is the limitation of one day of thankfulness in an entire year. There are 365 days we can use to be thankful, but only one of those is set aside for thanks. That irks me. Several places have taken to calling November a month of thanks, but the idea of just having one day to be thankful is ridiculous. I say we should find at least one reason to be happy every day. So, there’s my little challenge for you all. Find at least one reason to be happy every single day for the next year and see how much of a difference it makes. Keep your heads up and the positivity flowing, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving!!

Schitt’s Creek and the Message to Change the World

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

Happy November everyone! The holidays have officially begun and I hope everyone’s Halloween was awesome. The end of 2020 is surging toward us full steam now, and we can only hope 2021 will bring us a much better world.

In our search for a good laugh and a fresh artistic experience, my wife and I recently binged the series “Schitt’s Creek” on Netflix, and it was absolutely everything we needed it to be. The show, a six-season story of a wealthy family who is forced to move to a small town and basically start over from scratch after losing their fortune, has pretty much everything you could ask for. Comedy, drama, love, anger, family, friends, motivation, and heartache all have their place in Schitt’s Creek. Created by Daniel Levy, his father Eugene, and his sister Sarah, the show follows the Rose family through their struggle to restart their lives and build themselves from the ground up. Amid metric tons of character growth, realization, and relationship building, we see the Roses coming to terms with who they are and just how different their lives must be from what they have grown used to.

One thing that never failed to amaze and impress us with the show is that, despite the small town atmosphere and the polar opposite social circles the characters all come from, there is never a question of their acceptance of one another. Acceptance is a perfect word to describe this show, honestly. There are no questions of racism, discrimination, sexism or any other form of making someone feel less than. It is perfect.

Dan Levy’s David Rose, a pansexual who “is into the wine, not the label,” falls in love with a local man and runs a general store with him. Their love is on display for three seasons and no one ever questions it. Not a single resident of the town has a problem with David and Patrick’s relationship, and the entire town supports their love from the minute it blooms until the very last episode of the show.

There are people of all races, genders, and sexual orientations through the town, even in positions of authority and there is never an issue. Schitt’s Creek is a town that is open and accepting of everyone, even the socially awkward and former upper class Rose family who may not always be understanding of how things work without a lot of money, but who always end up seeing the good in their situations and neighbors.

I think that acceptance is one of the most important messages the show has to impart on its audience. I continue to use the word acceptance because it has an entirely different meaning than tolerance. I find tolerance to be a disgusting word in regards to other people. It suggests that you look at those of other genders, identities, or preferences as somehow less than yourself and, rather than accept and attempt to understand them and their lives, you ‘tolerate’ them. I find it a terrible ideation and one that should be removed from all vocabulary. Other people are not here for you to ‘tolerate.’ No one should be expected to exist under the ideals of someone else.

One of the best things about Schitt’s Creek and its marketing and subsequent fanbase is the consistent freedom and lack of judgement amongst everyone in the show. Creators, actors, characters, and fans alike love each other and that love has spread farther than even Dan Levy and his father and sister thought it would when developing the show. Coming from a small town, where many people aren’t always open-minded and accepting, I feel an overwhelming love for this show and the message it sends to this world.

We are all equal on this planet, we all deserve the freedom to be who we are, love who we want to love, and live the way we want to live. As long as the thing that makes you happy is not harmful to someone else, you should be free to do it. I will always stand in support of that. In the state of the world today I think it is very important to have such a pop culture powerhouse standing up for acceptance and freedom. I truly think this show could be vital in helping create a world like Schitt’s Creek, where people don’t have to live in fear of judgement from their peers. It may seem like a dream, but it is one I very much hope comes true.

If you haven’t watched the show, by all means, jump into it and you’ll be hooked in the first ten minutes. It is a pretty great piece of history, and I am honestly ready to watch it again. I commend the Levys and every other cast and crew member who helped make the show and its message possible – and I admire them for the incredible way they have carried the message of love and acceptance across the world since the show’s premiere. Excellent job, Dan. Your idea has truly become the perfect reality.