It was an interesting brief I saw in a newspaper industry bulletin the other day.
Mandatory to my mama's generation was the ownership of a deep freezer and a sewing machine. These, remember, were people who believed in self-reliance and independence. You grew what you ate, you froze or canned it and you sewed what you wore.
Now, I've been telling y'all for a few years about the importance of eating your black-eyed peas and collard greens on New Year's Day and how by doing so, you'll have more money in the coming year.
Should the opportunity ever arise for you to deal with a bona fide race car driver on anything having to with driving a car, you might benefit from lessons I've learned. Let me share them.
Brandon heaved the massive bottom portion of the now-famous amber-colored Christmas tree over his shoulder and came quickly staggering down the stairs, trying to make it down without dropping it.
It all started at the beauty shop. Most of women's troubles that don't begin with men begin at the beauty shop. But then, you knew that.
When Dixie Dew's beloved baby sitter up and went to heaven, I found myself in a quandary: What was I going to do about child care when I traveled?
For many years now, Thanksgiving has been my favorite holiday.
My brother-in-law, Rodney, the wizard of wisecracks in our family, was sitting at the island in my kitchen, watching as I put away food from a Sunday school get-together.
When I was a child and given to daydreaming as children often are, I dreamed of what I would be when I grew up. I wanted to be strong, courageous, glamorous and well-traveled. And more than anything, I wanted to tell stories.
Publisher's Weekly, a trade publication for the book publishing industry, is always full of interesting tidbits. Annually, it publishes the number of books sold for each title that sold over 100,000 copies in one year.
I am always interested to see how these numbers shape up.
A woman, over the course of her life, will learn who she can shop with and who she can't.
Now that Mama's gone, it seems pertinent that someone step up and take her place. Or try to, anyway. Regarding the kind of life that Mama had, I think I'd like to step up and volunteer to turn into Mama.
Karen is always full of advice, even that which I don't desire or necessarily need. Like the other day.
"I have a good piece of advice for you," she began in one of our daily conversations that includes vital information like how many pieces of fried chicken Dixie Dew ate at Mama's or how her kids are not practicing piano. She called me up, I answered the phone and it all began with those words.
As though it was just yesterday, not the too-many-years-to-count that it really was, I can hear my daddy clearly. He'd pull back his shoulders, raise an eyebrow and point his finger at me - always with great meaning - and say, "Little girl, I'm about to learn you a thing or two."
It happened a few months back. My father-in-law celebrated, to our great joy, his 88th birthday.
It happened the other day. It's funny how things so simple can remind us of things so meaningful, of those sweets tucked inside our hearts and unknowingly treasured.
My parents, according to the world's definition of "cool," were not.
A few years ago, the magazine I have long loved - Southern Living - changed.
Several weeks ago, I wrote about moonshine runner turned stock car champion, Lloyd Seay, who was murdered in a dispute about sugar purchased to make illegal whiskey.
There are few who cannot say truthfully they miss their parents after death has laid claim to those loved ones. The parents who taught us, scolded us and, at times, annoyed us are never forgotten, never put away on a shelf to be remembered no more.
One afternoon, I had a hankering, a primal-like craving, for a supper of pinto beans and cornbread with a tall glass of cold, rich buttermilk thrown in for good measure and extra filling.
Over the years, I've crossed paths with many people who were extremely successful as well as some who were such miserable failures that, as Mama liked to say, "ain't worth the breath they draw."
This happened years ago. Mama was alive then, so it's been seven or eight years. I hadn't thought about it in almost that many years, but when it came to mind the other day, I took to studying on it and how the circumstances and opportunities of life's journey can be so fascinating.
Page 1 of 1