The Bilbo Dilemma
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My mother used to tell the story of a relative who served on a delegation from the Mississippi State Legislature that went to France to pick out a statue for a famous Mississippi politician. It was an honor to be in the Mississippi Legislature, an even greater honor to be selected for the statue delegation: traveling overseas, entrusted to purchase...
It’s only a $9.95 check . . .
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At one point, I was on fire to be a published author. I transitioned out of practicing law and began learning how to write. I went to writers conferences (Sewanne for fiction, Kenyon Review for nonfiction). I read goo-gobs of books. I submitted my work to literary journals, keeping a methodical record of what I sent where, who requested more...
My New Definition of Worthwhile
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Last night, we stood in line with hordes of parade goers, waiting for the ‘’Tit R~x Parade to get underway. In my hand I held a hastily-constructed stand of tiny spectators, proportionately appropriate for the tiny floats making up the parade that parodies the grandaddy of all Mardi Gras parades, the Krewe of Rex. I’d read that the creator of...
When My Foot was Wet
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The Mississippi River seeps through the concrete, the grass is smushy when you step.
“Oh, drat.” I lift my leg. “My foot is wet.”
Well, no wonder. The sole has separated from the body.
My foot is having an out-of-body experience.
I’m having fun, running the dog through the parking lot. She tears in circles, herding imaginary sheep.
*
Sarcophagus...
It’s Just a Tornado
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Our apartment in New Orleans overlooks the Mississippi River. At least that’s the way I remember it. For the last two days, the fog has been so heavy we might as well have been in 19th century London. That’s been fun, the rolling patches of fog, the slightly eerie sensation of driving through a deserted Quarter, a lone tourist hurrying across...
Time for New Odd Facts
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I attract spiders.
I haven’t put up a Christmas tree—other than Tom’s little Target tree, which we never take down, it stays up year-round—in 10 years.
I want an El Camino.
I am afraid of ocean liners.
I can’t spell, I have no sense of direction, I am a hyperventilating cook, yet I have lived for over fifty years.
All my life, I’ve preferred...
The Uncertainty of Being Southern
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As my husband ate a haystack, munching away, I thought about my earlier conversation with the man at the fireplace shop. “Why are they called dog irons?” I asked. I only asked the man this question after walking through his entire 50,000 square foot store and not seeing one dog on the fireplace equipment. He said, “They’re not. They’re andirons.”
Southern...
The God Moment
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I am struggling to get at something. The thing is important, undiminished by my fuzziness as to exactly what it is. It has to do with what is important in this world.
Not what we are told should be important. But, for me, what is, in fact, important.
The triggering event: I was sitting in writing group listening to the writers read their work...
The Dog Cured My Arthritis
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When I was 52, I began to lose the ability to walk. Arthritis in my left hip led me to quit modeling, quit wearing high heels, quit walking for my health. “You won’t need a hip replacement,” my rheumatologist told me, “for at least a year or two.” Determined to beat that projection, I undertook a physical therapy/yoga/stretching regimen. It was...