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NOLA Magic

Do you ever find yourself quoting yourself from an earlier conversation you’ve had? Me, too. So here’s a post I posted on Facebook recently. I thought I’d share it with y’all. Tom and I walk Evangeline down the street, and I remember when we first arrived in New Orleans almost eight years ago. I spent every day...

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Memories Unearthed by Dorian…

She was young, the same delicate age as my vulnerable grandson is now. Full of pip, but spindly arms and legs, no bigger than a minute. All she’d ever known was the lapping of the Gulf, innocent of actual waves. Even so, had she grown up with the Atlantic, it wouldn’t have mattered. A riptide is a riptide. We were exploring our...

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As Naked as You Wanna Be

Each time we appeared in public, we wore fewer clothes. My sister, my cousin and I – Redbird Brain Productions – hit Capital Street the first time in long dresses, flouncy skirts and, for me, a full-length carrot costume. We were “Goon With the Wind,” a walking-float in the annual St. Paddy’s Day Parade. When we rounded the corner, 75,000 people...

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Flowers that Stink

I like flowers that stink. But then, growing up, I loved the smell of dry cleaning fluid that seeped through my grandparent’s Everyready Cleaners. Driving to their house, when we passed the linseed plant, I’d roll the window to suck in the sickly sweet air. Unwatched, I’d crawl into the back dash of Mamo’s Dodge to get close to the hot cardboard...

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I Assumed You Were Like Me

I wrote a book, and I made an assumption. I assumed you were like me. I assumed that, some nights, as you fall into that state before sleep actually takes you, you startle awake. When that happens, you remember that moment when you quit going to see your grandmother in the nursing home because you were flush with new love and you abandoned her as...

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Buy Your Tickets Today!

We’re having a grown-up event at Novel Memphis. It’s happening two weeks from today. The celebration is for THE HART WOMEN. I wrote the story. Marisa Whisett Baker is hand-sewing it into a novel. The event will have tickets and everything (the tickets are so Marisa will know when she’s made enough books). You can read about Marisa’s...

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My America

This is my America. Where three white Mississippians stand in the heat and praise the knowledge of Raul, a landscape artist, because he knows what the heck he’s doing in this demanding climate. Because, in my America, we value competence, period. Where all the windows on the antique stores and clothing stores and breakfast hang-outs...

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Odd Ellen Facts

It’s time once again to offer some Odd Ellen Facts (is the adjective on the facts or on Ellen? You decide). They’re “Strange but true” statements from my life, unembellished, unfootnoted. Let’s begin: My uncle once wrote me a letter to suggest I buy a Roomba. Not only would the robotic vacuum cleaner keep my house...

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