Bubba
My friends in Charleston, South Carolina, are wandering huge Magnolia cemetery with me, pausing at my parents’ grave on “Green Isle” where the magnolia my mother planted soon after my father died in the early 90s has grown high as … Continued
What Could Be Finer?
In Charleston when I was a girl, we used to sing, “Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the mor-r-r-r-ning?” Back then it was simply finer having frozen vegetables, from my mother’s cooking point of view. Sliced … Continued
What Sends a Girl Away or Havana in Key West
The largest city in Florida until the late 1890s was Key West, so I recently learned. We were perusing the exhibits in the Key West historical museum, one of which featured the story of Cuban cigar makers who set up … Continued
The Smallest One Was Madeline
In the vault of The Old Citadel, my mother sits on a saggy sofa in the huge bedroom she shares with my father. She’s reading to us before bedtime. It’s maybe the only time of the day when she sits … Continued
A Polish and an African-American Grandmother
A Polish and an African-American Grandmother We get so fixated on the nuclear family in the United States with its portability, privacy, and freedom to reinvent itself that we forget, except on Thanksgiving, how rich and supportive it can be … Continued
History as Story
My father used to complain that in my mother’s house, he walked on flowers, sat on flowers, ate on flowers and slept on flowers. My mother must have taken this as a compliment because she never changed the decor. It … Continued
Who Were These Other Men?
I hadn’t a clue in high school and college–gay life wasn’t recognized in polite Charleston, South Carolina society during the 1950s and 60s. Yes, rock n rollers with duck tails and pompadours rumbled against the crew cuts, but they all … Continued
Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My!
There were none of the above in our childhood zoo–Hampton Park, Charleston, South Carolina. Well, maybe a medium-sized brown bear in a tiny cage, sitting like a teddy bear as we stared at his doglike snout. But in our peninsular … Continued
London’s Burning, London’s Burning
When we were kids in Charleston, South Carolina during the 1950s, we’d play “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down; London bridge is falling down, my fair lady.” Then on the “my fair lady,” the four clasped and … Continued
A Young Oceanographer
Growing up in Charleston, South Carolina, we built huge drip castles with moats and added draw bridges of shells. On the edge of the foamy tide, we raced and felt the ridges in the sand with our bare feet. Our … Continued