Robert St. John

5 days ago | magnoliatribune.com | Robert St. John

Robert St. John reflects on this journey, writing that sobriety has given him things alcohol only promised. On May 25, 1983, I was 21 years old—lost and heading nowhere fast. That night, I was fspeeding down 4th Street in my hometown of Hattiesburg, headlights off, 90 mph, foot on the gas. It was 2 a.m. Three police cars chased behind me, blue lights flashing. Reckless. Irresponsible. Dangerous. I don’t remember much else—except the DUI. I was due. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me.

1 week ago | leader-call.com | Robert St. John

On May 25, 1983, I was 21 years old — lost and heading nowhere fast. That night, I was speeding down 4th Street in my hometown of Hattiesburg, headlights off, 90 mph, foot on the gas. It was 2 a.m. Three police cars chased behind me, blue lights flashing. Reckless. Irresponsible. Dangerous. I don’t remember much else — except the DUI. I was due. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Scroll down for pecan pesto rescipeThe next day, I was in rehab in Jackson.

1 week ago | magnoliatribune.com | Robert St. John

Robert St. John says faith, family, friends, food, and fun — in that order — have served him well. “Get the first four right, and you won’t have to chase the fifth.”A few years ago, when both of my kids left for college, I wrote each of them a letter. Nothing fancy. Just something I hoped they’d find helpful once the room quieted down and the door had closed behind me. I slipped it into the top drawer of their dorm room desks and left it there. Since then, I’ve revisited that letter every spring.

2 weeks ago | leader-call.com | Robert St. John

A few years ago, when both of my kids left for college, I wrote each of them a letter. Nothing fancy. Just something I hoped they’d find helpful once the room quieted down and the door had closed behind me. I slipped it into the top drawer of their dorm room desks and left it there. Since then, I’ve revisited that letter every spring. Updated it. Rewritten it. Shared it. My kids have long graduated now, but the heart of what I wanted to say still feels true — maybe even more so.

2 weeks ago | djournal.com | Robert St. John

A few years ago, when both of my kids left for college, I wrote each of them a letter. Nothing fancy. Just something I hoped they’d find helpful once the room quieted down and the door had closed behind me. I slipped it into the top drawer of their dorm room desks and left it there. Since then, I’ve revisited that letter every spring. Updated it. Rewritten it. Shared it. My kids have long graduated now, but the heart of what I wanted to say still feels true — maybe even more so.