To be honest, I was more than a mite worried. I was plenty worried.
It often amazes me how many words of kindness and encouragement I receive for the stories I tell.
You may be surprised to learn people sometimes disagree with me.
Sometimes, I look across our yard and sigh somewhat woefully, "Too much of that stubborn red Georgia clay shines through." I think, "Oh, one day." I have been thinking this for six or seven years.
Hollywood, more often than not, gets it wrong about the South in movies and television. When they do get it right, we Southerners are amazed and appreciative.
A friend, an only child, was talking about cleaning out her parents' house after the death of her father.
One of my friends called the other. One of my best friends. There was urgency and distress in her voice.
A few years back, someone I knew ever so slightly died. Though I didn't know him well, I knew him to be mean, egoistical and quite a bully.
My husband was out of town working on location when he called one night and discovered I was still working though the hour had grown late.
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.
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Something the other day took me back to a time.
On a plane headed out west to Phoenix, I sat beside a very nice man who was flying to a job interview. It was for ...
During my youthful days, I was too young to fully grasp the education I was receiving. That's typical of most teenagers I suppose.
A few months ago, a reader showed up at an event I was doing and handed me a newspaper clipping of a column I wrote ...
Occasionally, sleep will sneak away from me in the middle of the night. I will try to keep my mind from going, because once it ...
It happens all the time.
Only one thing scares me about dying. It is so momentous it rocks my heart with grief whenever I think of it. It is a ...
Here's what happened, and I swear on Mama's cocoa-splattered chocolate cake recipe this is the gospel.
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