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
Walking the neighborhood this time of year with the azalea bushes blushing from winter’s nip under their skirts, the “green fuse” sparks, and I’m channeling some great poet whose name I’ve forgot. Words form in my head as I stride … Continued
Green so intense it’s iridescent! Maybe it’s because there are no leaves on the trees yet to block the rainbow green of first shoots: tulips, lilies, violets, waterleaf. As I walk the alleys west of my house following the light, … Continued
It’s one thing to memorize a poem, but quite another to stand up in front of strangers and give it voice so compellingly that you meld your own timbre and emphasis, pacing and intelligence to the poem’s essence. Almost a … Continued
There are some who stand back a little from their characters, bemused and thoughtful, smiling indulgently perhaps or with a worried frown on their faces. In this group belongs one of my favorite Southern writers, Eudora Welty, with her light, … Continued
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
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
You could probably count to fifty the number of American women who became doctors until the 1960s. Let’s imagine it’s 1930. My cousin Eleonora was 13. Her youngest sister Sadie had fallen off a stone wall–this was Pittsburgh with high … Continued