Nathan Box
Bio
I am a reader, writer, hiker, cinephile, music fanatic who finds himself constantly searching for the next grand adventure.
Stories (20/0)
A Small Town Education
Growing up in Frederick, Oklahoma, you might assume I graduated from high school with a deep understanding of the Tulsa Race Massacre. You might assume that I understood the true heartbreak associated with the Trail of Tears. You might assume I learned about the segregation my ancestors allowed to permeate every facet of our society. You could assume my education offered nuanced views of America’s strengths and an honest assessment of the aspects of our union still in need of perfecting. You could assume failing to grasp these concepts is the byproduct of living in a deeply red state. This might lead you to assume this is not a systemic challenge. Your mind might think, “this is not a challenge facing our bluest cities.” You could assume all of this, but I would fervently argue that you are wrong.
By Nathan Box5 months ago in Education
To the Next Generation
These words are my own. I write them as a card-carrying member of the millennial generation. Coming of age during the turn of the century was both a terrifying and exhilarating experience. Like generations before me, both domestic and global events, coupled with the fallout from a constantly connected world, defined my life and the lives of my generation.
By Nathan Boxabout a year ago in Journal
A Thousand Words On... My Siblings
ears ago, I was in Oklahoma for the holidays. After we cleared empty plates from the dinner table, we moved through the next stage in the ritual. Gathered around the Christmas tree, gifts were being opened in an orderly fashion, wrapping paper tossed aside, gratitude exchanged, and then a quick version of show-and-tell. Surrounded by my parents, siblings, nieces and nephews, I took stock of the room and the people in it. In that special place, I began thinking about family and the circumstances that shape them. Among these people, I grew up. This place and these people shape me. With or without their knowledge, they placed me on a path that is still unraveling itself in fantastic ways.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Families
- Top Story - June 2022
On the FringesTop Story - June 2022
As we debate approaches to solving the complex challenges of homelessness in American cities, what is often missing from the conversation is empathy. As the middle class continues to shrink, many of us are a single financial disaster from housing instability. This calamity can come as job loss, foreclosure, repossession, medical emergencies, or a thousand other ways a financial system such as ours can bleed you dry. Couple this reality with our poor approaches to mental health and substance use treatment, and you discover anyone of us could become homeless.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Humans
A Letter to the Graduates of the University of Central Oklahoma (2022)
I really should not be allowed to watch documentary films. I can think of countless films that forced me to climb a new soapbox and preach. From human trafficking to protecting dolphins in Japan, these films have a way of exciting a dormant passion living within me. This passion has translated into signing petitions, emailing my elected officials, and even a few protests. Then, my energy wanes. The flame that made me want to change the world slowly flickers and dies without an organization to harness my passion.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Education
A Short Story On... Being Afraid of the Dark
No one is immune to fear. Fear is an innate part of the human condition; an evolutionary gift meant to ensure our survival. Even the strongest person you know possesses a fear that shakes them to their core. For some, this fear manifests itself when peering over a ledge. For others, we might find it while flying, speaking publicly, or a spider crawling up your living room wall. These fears can often be irrational, but we can also ground them in real-world experiences.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Confessions
Absolute Freedom
I wholeheartedly reject the tyranny of the expected. I have typed these words before. I have said them to friends and colleagues. They have hung in the air and existed on the web for anyone to find. They are a mission statement for my life. These words define so much of who I am, but I remain a creature of routine. The world expects certain things from me, and, more often than not, I oblige.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Journal
2020 & The Return
It is a cold and wet Saturday night. A few remaining leaves hold tightly to the trees outside our window. Their battle is just a matter of time. Watching the rainfall over the valley from our third-floor apartment, I contemplate how typical this scene is for the Pacific Northwest this time of the year. I foolishly fumble for my phone. I am alone within these walls. Brandon is working or out with friends. It is becoming increasingly hard for me to tell the difference between the two. I find myself wishing longingly for a text or a call to break the silence. I am not twenty anymore, so I don’t need the conversation to lead to immediate plans. I just need to know someone/anyone is thinking of me. The call never comes. The vibration is never felt. My presence isn’t needed anywhere in the city tonight. Much like the weather this time of year, this too has become typical of my return to Seattle.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Confessions
Dear Lucas (2021)
This will be my final annual letter to you. It will not be the last time I write about you, mental health, suicide prevention, or any other subject encapsulated in this universe. It will just be the final time I sit down on the eve of your passing with the intention of searching for a lesson to be found in your sudden loss and sharing it with the world.
By Nathan Box2 years ago in Humans
Back in Seattle
For four years, I carried a tired Moleskine notebook with me. Daily, I would flip through its pages, jotting notes for story ideas, and planning content for my website. As a writer, this notebook is my whole world. In reality, it might be my most prized possession.
By Nathan Box3 years ago in Confessions
