MEMOIR EXCERPTS 

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I am a Southerner, defined by a childhood of sultry days, cooked greens and my mother’s holiday feasts. As a Southerner living in the North, I carry  a separateness within me of long hours and slow days. I carry the secrets of who we were then, no matter who we might have wanted to be.

from Spanish Moss

Tom T.                       

If you were a kid growing up in the center of town and only three blocks from a main street in either direction, the world of crime opened up with opportunities like dandelions in spring. All a boy had to do was keep his eyes open and his goals clear.

                                   from My Life in Crime

 Rick N.

My mother was a force, a talented, driven, inimitable force. She sang show tunes and hymns, danced ballet and tap, sewed clothing and draperies, upholstered furniture, cooked and baked beautifully, hooked rugs, grew roses and vegetables and rows of hollyhocks, kept lifelong friends and never, never stopped.

                       from Never Mind the Why or Wherefore

                       Jack H.

It was like magic when I met my husband. He was 14-years older than I was, about the age of my brothers, and I was very comfortable with that. He was a wonderful dancer and just a nice, nice man, a gentle person – raised with and by women. He had so many sisters that he understood women, and women loved him.

                                    From Of Substance & Style 

             Terese M.

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My friends and I knew the only way we’d have the money for college was to go on the GI Bill. After basic training, I went to Greenville, Mississippi, which was hot at night and had bugs. It was easy to hate. I lived in a barracks outside the city, and for some reason the bankers’ wives came out and taught us to play bridge. That was the good part of Greenville. We would say all kinds of awful things about Mississippi. But maybe some were exaggerated.

                                  From Ancient History

                                  Pat C.