June 11, 2012
Stories this photo appears in:
One evening I was sorting through clothes in the bedroom while Tink, settled in a comfortable chair, was (as usual) fiddling with his phone.
In this house of wood and stones that I call home, there are books scattered and stacked hither and yon.Some might say this house is cluttered with books but I would never be that irreverent, for cluttered seems to mean "unnecessary" or "junk."
It was a sweet sight, no doubt. My heart is always drawn to God's animal creatures, especially those who have found themselves abandoned young.
One day I asked a friend how her son was doing in college. She smiled then began a discourse on how he was enjoying his field of study and what he could do with his degree when he graduated.
Several years ago, I befriended a woman in Cincinnati, but then you know that, don't you? I've told you all about Miss Loretta.If you're new to this column, I'll fill you in. She is the widow of a Cincinnati police man. She did not marry until she was 37 because
There is a friend of mine -- one of the heroes I have known and loved -- who is fascinating in the life lessons he shares and the accumulation of wisdom that seems to come so easily to him.He came to the Deep South as a young man, having grown
Daddy and Mama both spent a lot of time seeing after the needs of others. They comforted, called and cooked for those who were, in some way, suffering.And if it came down to it, and sometimes it did indeed, Daddy gave away the last dollar in his pocket to someone
It would never have occurred to me that it would mean as much as it has, and it never crossed my mind that I would cherish it as I have.
When the column appeared where I lamented that my longstanding muse, Claudette, had lost a significant amount of humor due to medication so I needed a new muse who could inspire my writing, several stepped up to volunteer for the newly vacated position.One plea was particularly engaging.
This is how bad times are getting -- Claudette has taken to crying and Grace Ann has taken up cussing.
It was all my idea. As immodest as that might sound, it's true. Now that my friend, Karen, has made it to the big time, she should be reminded that it all started with one of my hair-brained schemes.Though she laughed it off at first, she eventually agreed. There
Whenever I take out my biscuit pan -- and every Southern cook worth her salt and grease has one -- I can't help but shake my head.It is not, as my friend Karen would say, "a purdy sight.". I have more than one, of course, for when guests come
One day at lunch, I ran into a beautiful older woman, a friend from years past, whom I hadn't seen in quite a while. She had changed very little since I first met her when I was in college.