To commemorate the ending of slavery in the United States, Charlottesville’s Juneteenth Celebration kicks off with an early-morning parade followed by a welcome address that includes the Negro National Anthem. The afternoon features an Emancipation Concert with the soulful sounds of singer Ezra Hamilton and the trumpet-heavy tunes of the Ellis Williams Band, plus performances by Chris Redd, Raymond Brooks, and other talented musicians. The 8th annual Charlottesville-Albemarle Black Business Expo will also take place during the celebration, with dozens of booths from local Black-owned businesses, panel discussions aimed at entrepreneurs, and a business pitch competition with cash prizes.
Saturday 6/15. Free, 9am–3pm. Jefferson School African American Heritage Center, 233 Fourth St. NW. jeffschoolheritagecenter.org
Celebrate Pride at The Fruit Market, presented by Some C’ville Queers at Visible Records. The market highlights local queer artists and provides an engaging opportunity to support their small businesses. Baker No Bakery, a Latina- and woman-run popup panadería, will be selling baked goods homemade with love and local ingredients. Other area artists, including Critter Butts and Deep Holler Leather Works, will share crafts along with a DIY Pride shirt printing station by Infinite Repeats.
Sunday 6/16. Free, noon-4pm. Visible Records, 1740 Broadway St. visible-records.com
Dad’s words stung like a leather belt across my backside. “You know what you are?” he asked. “You’re quick, certain, and wrong!”
It was more than half a century ago, and I was less than 10, but the sting still lingers.
I grew up in the crowded middle of seven children, where it seemed all of us were competing to get a word in edgewise, so how was I the only one who nicked that raw nerve with Dad, the nerve that screamed, “Only a fool would fail to take the time to get it right”?
I tried to do better, but I still struck that nerve with enough regularity that when Dad began (“You know what you are?”), I cringed, because I knew what was coming next. Eventually—I think I was in my late teens—Dad’s harsh critique of my decision-making ability fell into disuse. Maybe I’d grown wiser, or maybe Dad had just grown tired of trying to correct me. Probably a little of both.
It’s been nearly 30 years since Dad died, but I’ve continued to hear “quick, certain, and wrong,” not in his voice, but in my head. Almost every time things haven’t gone as planned, I have, without forgiveness, blamed my own impatience, my own poor judgment, my own damned foolishness.
* * *
My brothers and I were clearing out my parents’ house last summer, a few weeks after our mother died, and I volunteered to clear my parents’ bedroom. Dad’s dresser had sat largely untouched since 1996, so sliding open the top drawer was like cracking open a crypt to reveal a trove of treasures buried with the deceased for his use in the afterlife.
I found the spring-top box where Dad had kept bus fare for his morning commute. I found the Swiss Army knife that was a virtual prosthetic for Dad: One minute he’d be using it to pop open a can of beer as we floated down the Shenandoah in a boat, while the next minute he’d use it to pry a hook from a trout’s mouth. I found tie clasps and cuff links that I’d seen Dad put on before Sunday Mass. I found the medals he’d earned in the service, years before he met my mom and started a family. I recognized—and left—those familiar treasures in the crypt of that top drawer.
Photo by Eze Amos.
The treasure that drew my attention was one that I didn’t recognize, though I immediately knew what it was. I was 8 years old when Dad returned home from Vietnam in 1969, sporting a battery-powered Seiko wristwatch, and here in Dad’s dresser was the wind-up Timex that came before the Seiko. It hadn’t ticked in more than half a century, and despite my winding, it produced not one tock.
The wristband was indented where Dad had buckled it every morning. He’d been a barrel-chested, physically imposing man, so I was surprised to discover that the band fit my thin wrist exactly as it had his.
I took the watch to Tuel Jewelers, where the jeweler’s eyes twinkled at the challenge of bringing the old Timex back to life.
It was during the weeks that the jeweler worked to restore Dad’s wristwatch that I began to wonder if my father’s sensitivity to my quick decisions might have been grounded as much in his own experience as it was in my own actions. I thought of instances when time had been taken from him, about moments in Dad’s life when he’d been rushed to decisions he hadn’t wanted, to conclusions that ranged from unfair to cruel.
I thought first of Dad as a skinny 13-year-old, when his father—larger than life in my dad’s telling—died of a heart attack in 1938. When the Birmingham News reported the death, the story omitted Dad’s name from among the surviving family members. Maybe the reporter was in a hurry, but the slight left a scar that Dad carried for some 50 years until I uncovered the Mobile Advertiser story of the event that included his name. Still, the strongest man in Dad’s life was gone forever, reduced to an unattainable aspiration. I thought of Dad in 1943, a flight cadet in officer training, having enlisted immediately after his 18th birthday in the hopes of catching up with his older brothers, one commanding an air squadron in Burma and the other skippering a Navy ship. But, as Dad explained it to us later, leadership concluded they “hadn’t killed off as many pilots as anticipated,” so he was shipped to Saipan with the humble rank of Private, a laborer in an ammunition ordnance company responsible for loading bombs into B-29’s piloted by young men who’d earned their wings just a bit sooner. Glory, Dad found, went to other, slightly older men of his generation.
Bill Moriarty holds Michael’s infant daughter. Photo documentation by Eze Amos.
I thought about the 1950s, after Dad left the service, married, and tried to make a go of it with his own business. Dad designed and created figurines that he sold at shops and local events, until piracy of his best products (as well as a third child on the way) compelled him to exchange that dream for a steady government paycheck. As responsibilities took precedence over dreams, Dad boxed up the last of his figurines and stashed them under a bed in the nursery, where I discovered them last summer, caked in dust.
I thought about the Friday after Thanksgiving, 1964. My parents were in the dining room that Dad had only recently finished building onto the back of our house. My mom was holding in her arms my three-week-old sister when Dad spied water streaming through the kitchen light fixture. He dashed upstairs and found me, along with my diapered little brother, turning the bathroom into a water park. Dad quickly lifted me and “put” me down on the slippery floor outside the bathroom, where I slammed into the wall—and snapped my femur. I don’t remember that it hurt, only that when Dad tried to stand me up, my leg kept sliding to the side like a puppet’s.
A few days in traction, followed by a few weeks’ recuperation in that new dining room, and I was as good as new. My mom told me later that Dad had felt terrible, but I don’t remember that he ever told me he was sorry for having been, well, quick, certain, and wrong.
I thought about that years later when it occurred to me that in 1938 Dad had not only lost a father he admired, but he’d also lost the chance to slowly learn and accept that fathers sometimes make mistakes with their sons (and vice versa); that sometimes disagreement and fault do not preclude, but instead engender, respect and even admiration.
Like most people, Dad was complex, sometimes even self-contradictory, and that’s what often made pleasing him difficult. He could tell a joke with impeccable timing. He was committed to making to-do lists and getting things done—on time. He had no patience for dithering. When it came to me, my quickness in winning races at our local swim club earned his admiration, but quick answers on more sensitive matters such as race or politics earned his admonition.
As I grew older, I made plenty of mistakes—undoubtedly many of the “quick, certain, and wrong” variety. I’ve thought about one more than all the others. My sister, the one who’d been a mere three weeks old when I suffered my broken leg, had singled me out as her “hero” since we were little. Three weeks into the second semester of her junior year in college, she made a surprise visit home. Something was troubling Molly, so on the day she was to return to school, I spent the afternoon with her. Two weeks later my mother called and said “something terrible has happened to Molly,” and I realized that her hero had been quick (to dismiss the warning signs of her depression), certain (that she would grow out of whatever was bothering her), and unforgivably wrong.
It is said that the older we get, the less we know. And so it was that on that day in February 1985, I aged decades. As horrible as the loss was for my sister’s hero, though, I knew even then that it was worse for her daddy. The loss upended Dad’s world, robbed him of precious time with his only daughter, and left him (if we had this much in common) with all the time in the world to consider the unanswerable questions that a suicide bequeaths its survivors. Life, it seemed, had pushed and shoved Dad again, this time with unspeakable cruelty.
Retirement a few months after Molly’s death brought Dad relief from the “need it an hour ago” routine that characterized his 25-year career at the Pentagon, and he finally had time for the travel with my mom that the two of them had denied themselves during their child-rearing years; both relished the timeless promise brought by four grandchildren.
Author Michael Moriarty wears the watch the once belonged to his father. Photo by Eze Amos.
Life, though, would be quick, certain, and wrong with Dad one last time. A few months after his 70th birthday, Dad contracted a virus that did its damage in a furious hurry: In the space of just days, what seemed a mere cold progressed to a terrific fever and then a seizure, which left Dad in what the doctors coldly characterized as a “permanent vegetative state.” Brain dead.
Hoping for a miracle, I was, a few days later, standing next to Dad’s bed in the ICU, holding his hand, when the nearby radio began to play Rachmaninov’s Symphony No. 2, one of the most beautiful pieces of music you could ever hear—and undoubtedly one that Dad, whose own father had taken him to concerts and instilled in him a deep appreciation of classical music, had enjoyed many times. For the first time since Dad had gone under, his eyes moved (behind closed lids) and his grip on my hand tightened. I think that what was left of his brain that night still appreciated Rachmaninov, though heaven only knows if he was aware of whose hand he gripped as he listened.
About four weeks later, Dad lay in a hospital bed in that dining room that he’d built some 30 years earlier, and again I was standing next to him, stroking his limp, withered arm, when he left this world to the strains of “Solveig’s Song,” one of Edvard Grieg’s Peer Gynt suites, which I had queued up on his stereo moments earlier. I don’t know if his battered mind and departing spirit detected either the music or the touch of my hand, but I’d like to think he took with him warm memories of both.
A photo of Bill Moriarty on Saipan, wearing the watch that would one day belong to his son. Photo documentation by Eze Amos.
Just before I was to pick up Dad’s watch from Tuel, one of my brothers uncovered from my parents’ things a wrinkled old photograph that I’d never seen before: It was my dad, 18 years old and rail-thin, standing hands on hips, squinting into the midday sun on Saipan, 1943. The photo is grainy, but on his left wrist is, unmistakably, the wind-up Timex.
I have a smart watch and a couple battery-powered watches that keep perfect time, but now I like to wear Dad’s old wind-up. It is beautiful, probably almost 90 years old. Sometimes it runs a little slow, other times a little fast. It is, in other words, like both fathers and sons: loved but also flawed, imperfect. Every morning when I take a minute to wind that watch, I remind myself to be a little more patient, a little less certain and, honestly, a little more forgiving. And when I place the watch on my wrist and buckle its cracked wristband, exactly as my dad used to do, I think of Solveig’s lament to Peer Gynt: “And if you wait above, we’ll meet there again, my friend.”
Michael Moriarty lives in Charlottesville and retired in 2023, following a career as a legal editor and project manager. He has been published in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, SwimSwam, and Medium.
Bree Luck (left) says the hot tub at ACAC is basically the production office for “Well, That Was Awkward,” the podcast she co-hosts with Mendy St. Ours.
Photo by Eze Amos.
It goes without saying that we had to edit this interview for length. That’s what usually happens when you get best friends together—let alone best friends who’ve known each other for 20 years and have recently launched a podcast. “Well, That Was Awkward,” from Bree Luck and Mendy St. Ours, promises to celebrate authenticity and vulnerability in the way only besties can.
“Society is full of people trying to appear cool and invulnerable,” says St. Ours. “We wanted to do something authentic, empathetic, and relatable, but also entertaining and funny.”
The episodes, 30 minutes (“-ish,” says Luck) each and released on Thursdays, are produced by Luck’s Awkward Sage Media, a company she founded in 2023 that focuses specifically on personal, professional, and spiritual development shows. “Well, That Was Awkward” fits right in, spotlighting real (and real awkward) crowdsourced stories from listeners, submitted on social media or via email.
“Ultimately, we hope to provide entertainment and a reminder that it’s okay to be imperfect,” says Luck.
How did you settle on “Well, That Was Awkward” as a title and concept? Mendy St. Ours: Pretty much every day, people tell us about something awkward in their lives. Sometimes it’s a small story—like going to a PTA meeting with your skirt tucked into your drawers—or a BIG story, like your ex showing up at your wedding with a clown nose on. Bree Luck: That happened to me. Plus, post-pandemic statistics show that people feel a greater sense of social anxiety and awkwardness than ever before. MSO: She doesn’t have numbers to back that up. You’ll have to trust her on that. So it just felt natural to lean into helping people normalize their most awkward moments—to laugh with them—and to mitigate or even eradicate the shame surrounding our mishaps.
What does it mean to “embrace the awkward”? BL: Honestly, it means just taking yourself a little less seriously. As we work our way through such a polarizing period in our culture, it’s about finding that balance for taking responsibility for your missteps without delving into self-loathing. We can make mistakes, course-correct, and move on. MSO: And learn that your worst moments can turn into fantastically entertaining tales.
How many times a day do you all say the word “awkward” and are you okay with it? MSO: Honestly, we’ve lost count! “Awkward” is basically our love language at this point, and we’re totally okay with it. Embracing the awkward is our superpower.
Bree, is this the first podcast under the Awkward Sage Media umbrella that you’ve hosted? BL: No, but it is the first one I’ve started while I’m busy producing a bunch of other podcasts. I started my first podcast “Pause To Go”—about navigating life transitions, like menopause and perimenopause (also awkward topics)—back in 2022. Then, about a year ago, I launched Awkward Sage Media, which offers podcast production services for coaches, healers, and educators. I currently produce eight podcasts under the Awkward Sage umbrella, and seven are featured in the Awkward Sage Network.
What’s it like taking on that particular role? BL: Co-hosting “Well, That Was Awkward” with Mendy is exactly the project I’ve been hoping for. I get to hang out with my talented bestie, share some great stories, and (hopefully) help people feel a little less alone in their awkwardness.
Listen to “Well, That Was Awkward” wherever you listen to podcasts, or visit awkwardsagemedia.com/show/well-that-was-awkward-podcast.
Do you tend to swim upstream or go with the flow? Either way, you probably want to check out this weekend’s Rivanna RiverFest, hosted by Rivanna Conservation Alliance and Rivanna River Company. An afternoon of family-friendly activities, games, and educational opportunities shifts into an evening of celebration and jubilance with live performances from Hometown Choir (a children’s choir of students from the YMCA After-School programs at all Charlottesville City Schools) and We Are Star Children (a local nine-piece “adventure pop” group … and not literal children). Food trucks and beverage vendors will be on site, as well as many community partners, to rejoice in the majesty of the Rivanna River.
Saturday 5/18. Free, 2–9pm. Rivanna River Company, 1518 E. High St. rivannariver.org
Three Notch’d Brewing Company’s Nelson County location is expanding its entertainment options to include axe-throwing. Supplied photo.
Once a week, I travel to distant realms to smite evil. I’m half-orc when I do this. I’m also playing Dungeons & Dragons when I do this. While my character Brad the Bad wields various bladed weapons with ease (and alacrity), my day-to-day life involves far fewer stabby items. I butter toast. I chop onions. I sometimes resist the urge to try to lodge a well-thrown steak knife into my drywall.
So, when I heard that Three Notch’d Brewing Company offers axe-throwing at their Nelson County location, I knew my moment had arrived. The quest crystalized in my mind’s eye: I needed to get my D&D party members, a pack of fellas I’ve been playing with for at least seven years, to join me for an evening hurling blades while drinking beer at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains. But would my party answer the call? They did. This is the story of our adventure.
—Kristie Smeltzer
What
Throwing axes at Three Notch’d Brewing Company’s Nelson County location
Why
Because playing with bladed weapons under safe conditions is so fun.
How it went
All enjoyed themselves with no casualties to report.
We arrived in ones and twos, as adventuring parties are wont to do. Three Notch’d staff members at the check-in stand gave us waivers to sign, which resulted in a lot of laughs as we read them while waiting for a critical mass of our party to arrive and our lanes to be ready. Here’s the waiver’s gist: This could be dangerous, don’t be putzes, and wear closed-toed shoes. If I’m honest, my biggest concern upon reading the waiver was that we wouldn’t, in fact, be able to enjoy their libations whilst slinging axes, but fortunately, beer and blades can coexist at Three Notch’d.
When our lanes were ready, a kindly staff member took us to our barn. It was a single-car-garage-sized structure with a little porch with tables for our refreshments and our two axe-throwing lanes inside. We six had the whole barn to ourselves since we’d rented both lanes. The staff member showed us the two types of axes available for hurling: ones with metal heads and wooden handles and others solely made of metal. The latter were lighter and had the added benefit of a sharp edge in front and a small point on the back, so there was more than one way to get them to stick in the target. We learned their main rule of axe-throwing: Retrieve your axe after every throw. (Apparently, the first weekend the lanes were open, a ridiculous number of wood-handled axes perished because people hit the target with one axe, threw another with it still lodged there, and managed to break the first axe’s handle with the second one’s blade.) Judging by the state of our wooden axe handles, this rule is hard to remember – maybe because of beer.
We ordered drinks and food and got to hurling. The plain wood targets have a variety of designs that can be projected onto them, with different shapes and points associated with them. I stuck with a basic bullseye for this go at it. My friends and I had differing techniques. Some stood at the line where the walled sides of the axe lanes began, while others stood a few paces back. Some added a wrist flick as they threw to get more rotation. Others hurled the axes like they’d been storing up years of rage—oh wait, that was me, and I learned that brute force wasn’t the most successful strategy. When I managed to get the right distance from the target and amount of rotation on the axe, the sound of the blade thunking into the wood felt satisfying on a primal level, deep in the gut.
For $100, you too can hurl blades for 90 minutes with up to three of your closest adventuring buddies. Who knows, maybe the wood targets were made from evil trees who needed a little smiting.
Let’s face it: Some of us struggle to put together a date night worth remembering. And with Valentine’s Day around the corner, the pressure’s on. But don’t worry! Whether you’re meeting someone for the first time or looking to spice things up with your ride-or-die, C-VILLE has you covered.
We consulted local matchmakers Olivia and Jess Gabbay to come up with some creative date night ideas. They started Matchbook Charlottesville last summer—a free, seasonal matchmaking service that, in its first season, set up more than 120 people on first dates. Here are some of Olivia and Jess’ favorite spots.
First date
Rivanna Trail. Photo by Jack Looney.
First dates are as exhilarating as they are nerve-racking, so we suggest a fun activity to take some of the pressure off. Maybe go roller skating at the Carver Recreation Center—which is totally free and includes skates—take a walk through the oak trees at Forest Hills Park, or bicycle the Rivanna Trail.
“Arrive curious and a little playful. You’re just trying to see if you want to spend more time together.”
—Olivia & Jess
Valentine’s Day
Hedge Fine Blooms. Supplied photo.
If you’re reading this, you probably haven’t made any reservations yet. Securing a table at Charlottesville’s most romantic spots might be a crapshoot at this point, so why not cook up something special at home? Foods of All Nations has spices and sauces that can transport you anywhere. Even if you’re not much of a cook, it’s the thought that counts.
“Be sure to preorder flowers at Hedge Fine Blooms! They offer a ‘Pick Your Own Stem’ bar and sell beautiful vases.”
—Olivia & Jess
Anniversary
Gearharts Fine Chocolates. Photo by Eze Amos.
No matter how many years have passed, marking your relationship’s milestones is your opportunity to really wow your partner and show how much you cherish the life you’ve built together. Sweets are a perennial winner, so splurge on a decadent gift box at Gearharts Fine Chocolates or share something at the downtown shop’s dessert café. If you both want a hand in making a meal, we recommend reserving spots for a cooking class at The Happy Cook to surprise your S.O.
“If you want to go classic, everyone looks great in the warm lighting at Tavola or The Alley Light, and why not look hot and eat amazing food on your special day?”
—Olivia & Jess
Friends dates
Decades Arcade. Photo by Tristan Williams.
Not every date night has to be hot and heavy. Some of us just want to hang out. If you’re looking to spruce up a friends’ night in, the kind and knowledgeable staff at Market Street Wine can point you to the perfect vino to share—plus, they host free wine tastings on Wednesdays and Fridays. Pick up the group’s favorite bottle and one of the shop’s puzzles to do at home, then pit stop at Luce to grab pasta to pair it with.
“If a puzzle at home feels a little too cozy, get competitive at Decades Arcade.”
—Olivia & Jess
Show date
Chaps. Photo by Tristan Williams.
Hit the Downtown Mall for one of the many shows at Live Arts or The Paramount Theater. If you want to take in a movie, especially one a bit more indie, Violet Crown Cinema has you covered. Afterwards, you can debrief over ice cream at Chaps.
“It’s exciting to learn more about how the person you’re dating thinks—you might just be surprised by their ice cream choice, too.”
—Olivia & Jess
Artsy Saturday
McGuffey Art Center. Supplied photo.
Never underestimate the romance of an art walk. Charlottesville’s wealth of art galleries, with rotating exhibitions, offer feasts for the imagination and fodder for great conversation. Check out New City Arts, Visible Records, McGuffey Art Center, or The Fralin—or make a day of it. Get coffee, and visit all four.
“Start the day off right with your favorite espresso drink and a pastry at Lone Light.”
—Olivia & Jess
Outdoorsy dates
Climber Chloë Ester Cook at Rocky Top. Photo by Tristan Williams.
With the up and down weather these days, you and your date might have a surprisingly warm afternoon to plan around. Plus, Punxsutawney Phil predicted an early spring, so it might be wise to start brainstorming picnics and trail walks now. We recommend Ivy Creek Natural Area or Darden Towe Park for bird and people watching, with the added benefit of being near the water.
“If you want to be more active, a day pass at Rocky Top can fill that ‘outdoorsy’ urge in the wintertime.”
—Olivia & Jess
Book date
Central Library. Photo by Rammelkamp Foto.
The Downtown Mall is lined with great bookshops to visit, from the resplendent New Dominion to the trans-owned antifascist The Beautiful Idea. And don’t forget the Central Library. Wherever you go, take some time to explore, and grab a book your date will love. All of these spots also host free events, so be sure to check their calendars for more date ideas.
“It’s extra fun to recommend each other a book and cozy up at Twisted Branch Tea Bazaar afterwards.”
Charlottesville is full of smarty-pants who love to work their brains at trivia night. And you’re guaranteed to find a gathering nearly every night of the week, like Random Row’s Sunday evening battle of wits, Alamo Drafthouse Cinema’s Thursday night get-together for “Jeopardy!” wannabes, and Starr Hill Downtown’s Wednesday evening extravaganza, where host Olivia Brown quizzes crowds. Brown’s trivia journey began at World of Beer, where she helped keep score. She’s been at Starr Hill since 2021, and, fun fact, recently launched her own company, Trivia with Olivia, through which she hosts public and private events, virtual trivia, and offers DIY trivia packs. triviawitholivia.com
Name: Olivia Brown.
Age: 30.
Pronouns: She/her.
Hometown: Centreville, Virginia.
Job(s): Tour Guide at Monticello by day, trivia host and owner of Trivia with Olivia by night.
What’s something about your job that people would be surprised to learn: That people playing bar trivia will fight to the death over the most minute details, so watch out and make sure you do your research before writing a set of questions.
Favorite trivia fact: Pierre, South Dakota, is the only state capital in the United States that doesn’t share any letters with its state’s name.
What’s your best trivia category: I’ve done so many trivia categories over the years, but a couple I’ve really enjoyed are “Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?” rounds, and quirky things like “Living or Extinct?” where teams had to guess whether the animal I gave them still exists or not.
What’s the key to choosing the best trivia team name: A good pun can go a long way! And while inappropriate team names are usually quite funny, there is a line where you make trivia hosts not want to say things on the microphone.
Best part of living here: Seeing the mountains on the most casual drives, like to the gym or the grocery store.
Worst part of living here: My rent.
Favorite local restaurant: The Local in Belmont. I have never had a bad experience—it’s always impeccable.
Favorite local place: My bed, but if I can’t pick that I’d have to go with Mint Springs Valley Park.
Bodo’s order: I have celiac so I go one of two routes: BYO bagel and order plain cream cheese and lox, or the Turkey Cleo Salad and potato salad on the side.
What’s your comfort food: My dad’s spaghetti bolognese. Cooks three to four hours, and I’ve been eating it for as long as I can remember.
How do you take your coffee: With a splash of French vanilla creamer, hot or iced.
Who is your hero: Elie Wiesel and Ruth Bader Ginsburg are among my biggest heroes. People who represent my Jewish identity and did everything in their power to fight for themselves and for others.
Best advice you ever got: Since I was a child, my mom has told me: “There are always options.”
Proudest accomplishment: Officially registering my trivia company as an LLC was an extremely proud moment for me. I’m not one for big leaps of faith, but I finally put all that trust in myself and decided to do it!
Describe a perfect day: Somehow convincing my body to sleep past 8am, getting brunch (preferably with a kick-ass bloody mary), a hike with a view (preferably of mountains), dinner with my favorite people (preferably with an array of Mexican food), and a hot bath before bed (preferably with a book).
If you could be reincarnated as a person or thing, what would you be: I think I’d like to be a millennial’s house plant. Just put me in a nice sunny spot, doted on day in and out, happily growing.
If you had three wishes, what would you wish for: First and foremost, that celiac could be cured and I could eat gluten again. Second, I’d wish my family and friends never wanted for anything and got everything that made them happy. Third, a house full of rescue puppies because coming up with a third wish is hard and this seems like something everyone can get on board with.
Most embarrassing moment: When I was a preteen, I wanted to use a round brush to blow-dry my hair, but I had no idea what I was doing. I tried to do it and ended up getting the brush fully stuck to the top of my head. We thought we were going to have to cut my hair off at 9pm on a school night. My older brother figured out how to solve it, but refused to tell my mom and me until I agreed to make him sandwiches whenever he wanted. He mentioned we could remove the bristles with pliers and then the round brush would slide out. It worked and I spent the next decade of my life making sandwiches for him (he’s now married, so I’m off the hook).
Do you have any pets: I don’t, but I love to dogsit so I can get my fair share of dog serotonin in.
Favorite movie and/or show: The original Lion King will forever be my favorite movie, with Lord of the Rings: Return of the King coming in second.
Favorite book: Reading is my favorite hobby so this is almost an impossible question. Since I read it as a kid though, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee has always been my answer.
What are you listening to right now: I just started The Office BFFs audiobook by Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey.
Go-to karaoke song: I am an unapologetic Nickelback fan, and will always sing “Photograph” (an American classic).
Best Halloween costume you’ve worn: Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with one of my best friends.
Who’d play you in a movie: I have been told before that I remind people of Mila Kunis, so I would be blessed to have her be me in a movie.
Celebrity crush: Henry Cavill, the big, muscly nerd of my dreams.
Most used app on your phone: Instagram. I’m a sucker for the doom scroll sometimes.
Last text you sent: Asking my family to pick my most embarrassing moment that was appropriate to publish where other people could read it … they collectively said they had nothing that was both embarrassing and publishable, so were not of much help.
Most used emoji: Crying with laughter face.
Subject that causes you to rant: The state of health care in the United States.
Best journey you ever went on: For my 30th birthday, I went with a few of my best friends out to Utah and we went to three national parks in five days and it was a deeply soul-invigorating trip to bring me into my third decade of life.
Next journey: While I’ve made it a goal of mine to visit all of the national parks, my next planned trip is to Mexico at the end of January. Need a few days away from the winter.
Favorite curse word: I try not to sometimes, but I curse like a sailor and the F-word is my most common expletive.
Hottest take: Hot dogs are sandwiches. Fight me.
What have you forgotten today: To take my reusable grocery bags out of the car.
Explore end-of-life care for the LGBTQ+ community with author Kimberly Acquaviva, who will discuss The Handbook of LGBTQIA-Inclusive Hospice and Palliative Care at New Dominion Bookshop on Saturday, January 20. Supplied photo.
Kimberly Acquaviva has strong advice for health care professionals caring for patients in the LGBTQ+ community, particularly those who need end-of-life care: “No patient should ever have a sense that they are being judged.”
Acquaviva, UVA nursing school’s Betty Norman Norris endowed professor, lectures nationally to try to change care approaches and minds. She recently put her expertise into writing with The Handbook of LGBTQIA-Inclusive Hospice and Palliative Care. What sets the handbook apart from other books for health care providers is that it uses everyday language, not an academic voice, to reach the largest audience. A broad reach, and an open mind, is essential to moving the conversation forward. Acquaviva points to a lecture she gave to homecare nurses in Washington, DC. “At the end of my presentation, a woman came up to me and said, ‘I’m going to change my practice based on what you said,’” recalls Acquaviva. “‘I still think you’re going to hell, but I’m going to stop telling my patients that they are.’”
Acquaviva often confronts the obstacles of opinion in her talks, offering: “It’s okay for people to have strong religious beliefs about homosexuality, and I respect their beliefs. No one needs to change their beliefs to provide exceptional care. What needs to happen is for those beliefs not to be apparent to patients.”
When her wife, hospice expert Kathy Brandt, was diagnosed with a swift, incurable form of ovarian cancer about five years ago, Acquaviva’s scholarly interests became deeply personal. Just after the diagnosis, the couple moved to Charlottesville in 2019 for Acquaviva’s job at UVA, and learned that Charlottesville didn’t have a hospice/palliative care center with an inclusive nondiscrimination statement that covered sexual orientation and gender identity. Some hospice leaders reached out to assure them that care would be excellent.
“We let them know we could not accept care until the businesses were inclusive for everyone,” says Acquaviva. In less than two weeks, all of the local hospices had expanded their nondiscrimination statements. Brandt died about a week and a half after that.
The new nondiscrimination statements were good progress, but not enough. In-depth training and actively seeking ways to become more inclusive are also important, and changes have happened. Acquaviva says she would now feel comfortable receiving care at any of the hospices here.
Statistics show that many places need improvement. A 2023 survey of 865 end-of-life health care workers found that more than 15 percent of them witnessed disrespectful or inadequate care. Forty-three percent reported discriminatory care of their spouses or partners. Examples include care that was denied, delayed, incomplete, or rushed; insensitive and judgmental attitudes and behaviors; and gossip and ridicule toward patients.
Acquaviva provides many scenarios showing why LGBTQ+ community members in particular may have special needs at the end of life. They might feel more vulnerable in their homes, especially if living alone. Some feel they have to take steps to hide photographs of their family life. They can’t predict whether caregivers will react or be judgmental, Acquaviva says. “We have an obligation not to cause suffering.”
There is still a lot of educating to do in terms of equality in quality care, she says.
If you’ve read or watched local news over the last 25 years, you’ve probably come across Courteney Stuart’s name. An investigative journalist who covers everything from murder and sexual assault to prison reform and immigration, Stuart has been a reporter at several news outlets, including Style Weekly, The Hook, CBS19, and C-VILLE Weekly. She currently hosts “Charlottesville Right Now” on WINA, and recently wrapped her podcast Small Town Big Crime with co-producer Rachel Ryan. The first season dives into the 1985 Bedford County murders of Derek and Nancy Haysom, and convicted killer Jens Soering’s claims of innocence. Stuart and Ryan’s reporting was also featured in the new top-rated, bingeable Netflix docu-series, “Till Murder Do Us Part: Soering vs. Haysom.” @stuartandryan
Name: Courteney Stuart.
Age: 52.
Pronouns: She/her.
Hometown: Sherborn, Massachusetts, and Richmond, Virginia.
What’s something about your job that people would be surprised to learn: How much time it takes to deeply investigate and report a story. It can sometimes be years!
What’s the story that got away: Years ago there was one story tip about buried bodies that I just couldn’t confirm. But the untold stories that truly haunt me are the current ones I don’t have the bandwidth to investigate. Almost every week I get a worthy tip, and not only do I not have the time to do it, all the other reporters in town are also stretched too thin to take many of them on. We need more local journalists digging and telling the stories of our community!
What was the experience like participating in the documentary: Long and fascinating. We did our first interviews in 2021. I loved experiencing part of how a docuseries like that comes together.
You’ve researched the Soering/Haysom case for three years, what did you learn that surprised you the most during the process: That every time we thought we were done, there was a new twist to investigate.
Hardest part of podcasting: Getting your work to a broad audience without a marketing budget or production company behind you.
Do you have any future podcasting plans: Rachel and I have projects in the works. Some podcasts, some written work, and hopefully some work in the documentary film space.
Favorite restaurant: Too many. Lampo, Smyrna, and Tavola immediately come to mind.
Bodo’s order: Caesar salad and an everything bagel.
What’s your comfort food: Nick’s Ice Cream. (The whole pint for less than 350 calories!)
Who is your hero: I fangirl over badass female journalists like CNN’s Chief International Correspondent Clarissa Ward. When she knocked on the door of the Russian military agent suspected of attempting to kill opposition leader Alexei Navalny, I almost passed out from admiration.
Best advice you ever got: Stay in one place long enough, and the great stories will come to you.
Proudest accomplishment: Being a journalist in Charlottesville for 25 years. It’s truly been an honor to have people trust me with their stories.
Describe a perfect day: Up at 5am, coffee first, Crossfit second, super productive writing all morning followed by shopping in the afternoon with an unlimited budget (ha!), dinner and a drink at a great restaurant with friends (and I’m wearing what I just purchased), and unwinding at the end with the latest episode of my favorite show.
If you could be reincarnated as a person or thing, what would you be: A dolphin in an area of the world without tuna fishing.
If you had three wishes, what would you wish for: Three more wishes.
Most embarrassing moment: Diving behind the CBS19 News anchors in a desperate attempt to hide myself as the six o’clock news opened during my first weeks on TV. And there were many, many more such hilariously mortifying mishaps on display during that time.
Do you have any pets: A 13-year-old chocolate lab named Luke.
Favorite movie and/or show: “The Morning Show.”
Favorite book: One I really loved was Geraldine Brooks’ March.
What are you listening to right now: Brandi Carlile.
Go-to karaoke song: Unfortunately, I seem to think I can sing Brandi Carlile songs after a few drinks. A tip to my future self: You can’t.
Best Halloween costume you’ve worn: A corpse being eaten by a flock of vultures (all thanks to my siblings for their cooperation in that ill-advised event).
Who’d play you in a movie: Pamela Adlon (from “Better Things”).
Celebrity crush: Graham McTavish (Dougal MacKenzie in “Outlander”).
Most used app on your phone: Ugh. Instagram? Facebook? TikTok?
Last text you sent: “Your ladies make beautiful eggs.”
Most used emoji: Crying laughing.
Subject that causes you to rant: The ongoing assault on women’s bodily autonomy.
Best journey you ever went on: Literal: Ghana in 2018. Figurative: Deep into my own psyche.
Next journey: Germany and Italy!
Favorite word: I really like saying “undulate.”
Hottest take: Camping is terrible.
What have you forgotten today: I haven’t remembered it yet.
