The first Christmas we were together in Memphis, before we were married, before we had children, Bernard gave my mother a puppet named Book Worm that he purchased from a local bookstore. Book Worm was a green velvet - well, book, with a place to put your finger in the underside so when you opened … Continue reading The book tree.
I am a converted believer in Memphis, my hometown, the place I vowed never to live after turning 18. It wasn't some great epiphany. Like many conversions, it was subtle and happened while I wasn't paying attention. If, generally speaking, places have a way of growing on a person, then Memphis is the kudzu of … Continue reading 12 articles of faith for a Memphis believer.
Inside one of the 104 boxes of stuff from my mother's house I found her Daily Reminder book, 1963. It has a red cover, now tattered around the edges, and pages full of her lovely, ladylike script. Along with mailing addresses for her parents and for the music director at the church there are notations … Continue reading Minding the day.
