George-Wilson Literary Club

I've had a very busy week. We've bought two more bookcases, and I'm now unpacking boxes of books I've had in the garage for ages. I've missed having all my books around me. They're like my old friends, well-read, always there, and never-changing as the years go by.

I also enjoyed a nice visit with my sister. Patsy, or "Pitty Pat," as I call her, is two years younger than me; we not only shared a bedroom as we were growing up, but our thoughts and dreams as well. We still do. She, as was Terry, is a part of just about every memory of my childhood, and I don't know what I'd do without her.

Yesterday, we gathered at my aunt's home in Bardwell for our monthly literary meeting. An excellent cook, Mona served a meal fit for a king: catfish, hushpuppies, french fries, baked beans and coleslaw. Later, we enjoyed angel food cake swathed in huge, juicy strawberries. Accompanied with lots of good strong coffee, of course.

After our meal, it always takes quite a while for us to settle down to business. First, we discuss what is going on in our lives, our children’s and grandchildren’s lives, what’s happening around Paducah, Bardwell and Cunningham. And on to news around the world.

After that talk dies down, Mother reads the minutes. Our secretary, Mother does a great job of keeping us all on track. She keeps excellent records, sometimes reading minutes of past meetings, five, 10, or even 15 years ago. Of particular interest is the "what’s-going-on-in-our-lives" section, and we are constantly interrupting her.

"I don’t even remember writing that story," says one member.

“I can’t believe it’s been that long since I lived there," says another.

The George-Wilson Literary Club has been meeting each month for 19 years. Sometimes Eva (our youngest sister) attends, and occasionally our children join us, but the "die hards" are always there. (Left to right are Mona, Gina, Mother, Mary Ellen, Pitty Pat and Tom.)

Mary Ellen read her short story, Twilight Time; Tom read his poem, Ghost in the Time Machine; Mother read pages from her memoir, This is my Story, This is my Song, and I read a portion of my short story, Aunt Fanny's Drawers (which I still haven't finished...it just might become a book!)

Although I had a great time, I was glad to get home to my Bill. And Dudley, who grieves each time either of us leaves the house.

Well, he says, about time you got home!