Watching some movies set in Georgia, you’d think a screen writer has never visited the South.
Sticking together 150 years later
Something the other day took me back to a time, many years ago, when I followed the tight, winding roads of the mountains to present myself at the door of my maternal grandmother’s house.
In the South, having a truck is akin to being free.
It happens all the time. Tink will meet someone new around where we live and, invariably, that person will mention my daddy.
There were several of these coaches who I found admirable, albeit sometimes gruff and rough-spoken. All refused to suffer fools or encourage them. I suppose it isn’t fair to single out one, but Jim Lofton always stood out.
My grandmother had a little, black, homemade pouch that stored carefully folded money. Daily, she tucked it inside her bra. “This oughta be enough to bury me,” she’d say.
Out of the hundreds of columns I have written, that one is, without question, a top 10 favorite. Especially for Southern men. In that essay, I wrote that the sexiest men drive pick-up trucks and carry pocket knives.
Occasionally, sleep will sneak away from me in the middle of the night. I will try not to get my mind going because once it takes off, it will wear me out with all its thinking.
The only thing that really scares me about dying, is thinking of all the good books yet to read.
It was at lunch after a morning revival service last summer that a few of us sat around, munching on Southern casseroles and talking about one of the most memorable mothers any of us had ever known.
Don’t try to outwit a Southern woman when not properly armed for the battle.
Many times not only bloodlines, but stories overlap. It’s an ongoing puzzle of which story pieces fit together.
I love shopping that is easy and requires no effort or gas. It is because of us that bookstores, built from brick and mortar, are disappearing. Especially the small, independent ones.
When I was 6, the boy with hair the color of cotton and eyes tinted sapphire, came to live with us. He was the same age and size as I but more timid and less secure. Depending on the day, we were either best of friends or the worst of enemies.