The Bank Robbery

March is Women’s History Month. That’s why I think now is a good time to tell y’all a little story that I’ve been saving for quite some time. It’s the story of how my granny rose up from farm girl to bank president and nearly died along the way. Audrey May Rowell was her name,…

The Walk — Part 2

One step is all it takes to begin a journey, whether it’s a thousand miles or only one. When I was a little girl I walked a thousand miles through Citronelle. With no one to look after me, I stayed at Mama’s office. More accurately, I strayed around Mama’s office. Left to my own devices…

Get on the Christmas Train

Even though the railroad tracks through Citronelle have long since been taken up, once a year the Train still rolls through town. It is a phenomenon I’ve heard about for years from Mama’s friend Annie Bell. You see, the Train stops at her house, just like it stopped at her mother’s house, every Christmas morning….

The Lilly House

It rained the day I was born. And it has rained most every year on my birthday since then. That’s what you get when you have a late September birthday. Rain. What else do you get? Spider lilies. The more rain, the more spider lilies. As a child, I spent many an hour swinging by…

The Arbor

I have an arbor. I flat love it. Husband hates it – bugs, mess, blah blah blah. I don’t care. I have an arbor because Granny had an arbor. I flat loved it. It was covered with muscadine vines growing down to the ground and high up into the trees. I would drag whatever lawn…

Standing on the promises

Nowadays, when the work day nears an end and there’s not enough time left to start another project but too much time to call it church and head to the house, we automatically turn to the computer to fill that void. We stare until our eyes burn at the glare of news, friend updates, celebrity…

The dark blot

I like to say that I was raised Baptistmethodistepiscopalholiness with a little dash of Church of God thrown in for good measure. As the daughter of Episcopalian parents, with Baptist and Methodist grandparents, Holiness friends, and Church of God help, religion was always close at hand, not to mention the fact that in a town…

Back to school

Today is the first day of school. New clothes, binders, pencils, and paper. New hope for a better year, nice friends, and teachers who aren’t too hard. A chance to reinvent yourself for the year. Find your niche. Make your mark. Change the world. The possibilities stretch out before you like the line in the…

Why I love crime (The final installment)

My mama once said to me during one of our frequent political discussions, “I don’t believe in the death penalty. I’ve known plenty of murderers, and they weren’t all bad people.” Plenty of murderers, I wondered? Plenty as in “existing in ample quantity or number?” My sweet mama? Well, yes. And come to think of…

Why I love crime (The redux)

A doll is boring. And vaguely scarey with her fixed, blinking eyes. She just lies there. Staring. A fingerprint. Now there is something flat interesting! Here’s what a doll has: hair plugs. Here’s what a fingerprint has: whorls. Which sounds more interesting to you? Baw had had the misfortune of contracting tuberculosis and spent many…