Real Divas Read

Another busy weekend! On Saturday night, Suzanne and I had dinner with friends, and then we saw Stomp at the Carson Center. (You talk about creating something out of nothing; those entertainers did amazing things with brooms, mops, garbage cans. And much stomping, of course!)

On Sunday morning, bright and early, Suzanne and I drove to Nashville. We dined at Noshville, one of our favorite eateries, and then we headed over to the Southern Festival of Books.

And what a festival it was...books and authors all over the place! There was every genre on display, from pickle-making to espionage. Highlights for us were readings and question-and-answer sessions with best-selling authors, Ann Patchett and Bobbie Ann Mason. Although I haven't read a book by Patchett, I plan to. She's a very motivating, funny speaker. And Bobbie Ann Mason? I've read every book she has written. She's around my age and born and raised on a farm near Mayfield, so I can really relate to her stories. Many are about working-class people in this area, someone you might see at Kentucky Oaks Mall or Wal-Mart. And she is a master at telling their stories. As you may recall, her 1985 book, In Country, was made into a movie, starring Bruce Willis.

We just missed Rick Bragg. He's an Alabama boy and one of Bill's favorite authors. I wanted him to autograph Prince of Frogtown for Bill, but he up and left the day before. Darn it! I highly recommend anything by this talented writer. My favorite is All Over But the Shoutin.' But all of his books are entertaining. His writing style is distinct, quirky, and very homespun, with dialogue so real his characters practically jump from the page and start talking to you!

Suzanne and I bought tee-shirts, of course. I have enough already, but I just couldn't resist this one. What else could a Reading Diva do? Suzanne's is rather unique, to say the least. But she's not one for the mundane, as anyone who knows her will tell you!

And now that I'm motivated, I'd better get back to my writing.

Puppy Love

Dudley fell in love with her when he was a puppy. Each time she visited, he hopped onto her lap and insisted she pet him. He tried to kiss her.

I thought it was puppy love at first, but his love is growing deeper as time goes by. He barks with joy when she arrives; he grieves when she departs. And the minute she grabs her car keys, he whines: Don't go...please don't go!

Now that he's older, he somehow knows when it's her on the phone saying she's coming over. And when I hang up, he sprints to the front door, eagerly awaiting her arrival. If we walk her to her car when she leaves, he tries to hop in.

She visited yesterday, beautiful in her black-and-white outfit and red accessories. I wanted to take her picture, but she refused. She did, however, allow me to snap one of her pretty red high heels.

I knew Dudley was near; he never leaves her side when she visits. But imagine my surprise when I transferred this picture to my computer and found him at her feet, a look of pure love on his face. (Or is it lust? If you look closely, you'll see his tongue is hanging out a bit!)

There is also a deep sadness in his eyes. Suzanne had just picked up her car keys.

A Festival, a Meeting, and a Little Chair-Dancing

Bill and I went to the Fountain Avenue ribbon-cutting and festival on Thursday night, which was a huge success. And why would it not be? Suzanne coordinated the event!

We had a great time. There's just something about a crisp fall evening, the scent of hot dogs wafting through the air, music playing, kids cavorting here and there. We toured a couple of the newly-renovated Fountain Avenue homes, and they were beautiful; everything "done up" first-class. There is no greater cause than bringing old neighborhoods back to their former grandeur, and our city leaders are doing just that. They, along with the developer and local financial institutions, are to be congratulated on this very worthwhile project.

Earlier in the day, Eva hosted the monthly meeting of the George-Wilson Literary Club. We enjoyed ourselves, as always, and Eva's lunch was outstanding, as always. (She's a fabulous cook!)

Come and get it, y'all!

After stuffing ourselves with heavenly almond bundt cake and soft chocolate chip cookies, we were getting a little lethargic. So...

Gina cranks up the music and gets us moving.

Go Pitty, go Pitty, go Pitty, GO!

Shake it, Eva, shake it!

Chair dancing at its best. You go, Mary Ellen!

Mother sits this one out. But there was a time when she danced the nights away to big bands on the Delta Queen!

And finally...time to get down to business and read our stories.

* * *

Have a blessed Sunday, dear friends.

Close to my Heart

A few months ago I informed readers my short story, Blue Waltz, had been accepted for publication in Wanderings Literary Magazine. It is now in print, and Editor Mike Wever tells me my contributor copy is in the mail. It is also posted on the Wanderings website.

Blue Waltz is a story close to my heart. It's a work of fiction, and most of the names have been changed, but it is based on fact. Although it happened many years ago, I can still put myself back in that time and place when I first realized anything can happen to anyone. Anywhere.

Movin' On

She didn't begin first grade with us, but somewhere along the line Bobbie Jean appeared in our class. Slim, with deep brown hair that matched her impish eyes, she had a tiny black dot smack in the center of her bottom lip.

"I did it when I was little," she told us, "I just kept sharpening a pencil and sticking it there every day 'til it stayed."

We didn't know what to think; you never knew about Bobbie Jean.

Though she was only 11 or 12, she wore deep red lipstick and matching nail polish. I'm sure she wore a dress on occasion, but I can't remember seeing her in one. In my memories, she wears a checked shirt, tucked into blue jeans rolled to her knees, a scarf around her neck. Scuffed Penny Loafers on her small feet.

Bobbie Jean rarely got her lessons; she sat in class doodling or gazing out the window. When the teacher called on her, she acted as if she hadn't heard a thing. She just didn't answer. But as soon as the teacher turned her back, she smirked. And we snickered.

I admired her fun-loving ways, her spontaneity, devil-may-care attitude. Sarah Mae and I were fascinated, and we hung out with her for a time in fifth grade. Or maybe it was sixth grade.

Bobbie Jean was a year or two older than us and wise beyond her years. She knew about things. Like sex. She filled us in on the sordid details one afternoon during recess down in the bowels of Bardwell School. It was the day the circus came to town, and we were all excited, planned to go as a group the following Saturday.

But this news put the circus on the back-burner.

"Come on," she said, "I got something to tell y'all."

We all followed her down to the washroom, a dank, dark place where all the kids washed their hands before marching single file to the cafeteria for lunch. It seemed strange down there at that time of day, no other kids around. The only sounds were pots and pans clanging, low murmurings of the cooks as they cleaned up for the day. Hank Snow's I'm Movin' On was playing on a radio far away. Probably in the janitor's tiny apartment, down one of the shadowy corridors of the basement.

"My mother and daddy don't do that!" I said.

"Mine don't either!" Susie Jane said.

Sarah Mae and Mignon were frozen, apparently unable to respond to this ridiculous revelation.

"Well, pray tell," Bobbie Jean said, "How do y'all think you got here?"

She reached into her jeans' pocket, removing a crooked cigarette and a book of matches. "Well," she said, "All I can say is y'all got a lot to learn." She clenched the cigarette between her teeth and struck a match on the concrete floor.

"Where'd you get that?" Mignon said.

"Mom's purse," she said, twin spirals of smoke rolling from her nose, "She'll never miss it." She tossed the match into a corner and leaned against the wall. "Besides, I'm thinking about running away with the circus."

We looked at her in disbelief.

"I met the cutest boy helping put up the tents, and he said he'll get me a job and I can go with them when they leave town."

"What kind of job?" Susie Jane said.

"Oh, maybe feeding the elephant, cleaning out the monkey's cage. Or something like that."

We were speechless. Sarah Mae shook her head.

"Well, y'all can believe it or not," Bobbie Jean said, "But I'm movin' on."

As we got up and headed toward the door, she flipped her cigarette to the floor and ground it flat with the heel of her loafer. "Y'all are a lost cause!" she laughed.

Bobbie Jean didn't run away with the circus, of course. And not long thereafter, Willie Mae appeared in our class, just as Bobbie Jean had. She didn't much care about schoolwork either, so she and Bobbie Jean became good friends.

Sarah Mae developed asthma and had to miss the rest of the school year. Karen also arrived that year, so she and I immediately became best friends. She was as ignorant as I about the facts of life and boys, so we were a good match.

Willie Mae and Bobbie Jean drifted along together after that, always laughing and having a big time. We often saw them leaving school early, oblivious to Mr. Petrie's office which faced the street. He could have glanced out the window at any time and seen them leaving. But they never looked back. Both quit school after we finished eighth grade and got married.

I never knew who Bobbie Jean married or what happened to her. Until yesterday.

Pitty Pat called to tell me she passed away a few days ago in a town out west somewhere, over a thousand miles from Western Kentucky.

I was surprised how hard it hit me; I've been thinking about Bobbie Jean all day, hoping she was surrounded by family and friends; that life had been good to her.

Farewell, my old friend. May you rest in peace.

Paul Newman: A True Gentleman

I was saddened to learn of the death of actor Paul Newman. He passed away yesterday at his farmhouse near Westport, Connecticut.

Newman was not only a great actor, he was one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. I first saw him on the big screen in The Long, Hot Summer, and when I glimpsed those bright blue eyes, I felt I just might melt and run down into the sticky, Coke-spilled crevices of the unpadded seat at Milwain's.

Newman's wife, Joanne Woodward, co-starred with him in the Tennessee Williams classic, and although she was a great actress and had already received an academy award for The Three Faces of Eve, I couldn't understand why he married her.

"She's not pretty enough for him," I told Patsy, "He should've married someone beautiful."

Patsy agreed, "Like Elizabeth Taylor. She'd be perfect for him."

When we saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, I agreed.

But as it turned out, Joanne was the perfect match. They celebrated their golden wedding anniversary in January of this year.

When asked the secret to their long marriage, Joanne said, "Sexiness wears thin after a while and beauty fades, but to be married to a man who is considerate and romantic, who makes you laugh every day, ah, now that's a real treat."

And Newman's response to Playboy magazine when asked if he were ever tempted to stray? "I have steak at home," he said, "Why go out for hamburger?"

Now that, I think, is just about the nicest thing a man could say about his wife. He was a true gentleman.

My heart goes out to the Newman family during this sad and difficult time. He will be missed.

Anne of Green Gables

My favorite book when I was a child was Anne of Green Gables. I discovered it when I was eight years old, and I read it over and over for years, lolling in the swing during warm summer days; curled up in a chair next to the stove during those cold winter nights, munching on a peanut butter & jelly sandwich. And in the bed at night, until Daddy made us turn off the lights.

The last time I saw the book, one of my younger sisters was reading it. Dog-eared and battered by then, most pages had been scribbled upon by our youngest siblings. And the peanut butter & jelly smudges were still there.

Wish I still had that original copy.

The book was about Anne Shirley, the orphan girl who comes to live with Marilla and Matthew Cuthbert, middle-aged siblings who live at Green Gables, a farm in Avonlea on Prince Edward Island. The Cuthberts had decided to adopt a boy to help on the farm, but due to a mix-up at the orphanage, they send eleven-year-old Anne Shirley instead.

Anne is bright and quick, with a vivid imagination. But she is dissatisfied with her name, her pale skin, freckles, and bright red hair. She takes much joy in life, though, and adapts to living on Prince Edward Island in no time at all.

She soon meets Diana Barry, who becomes her best friend, and Jane Andrews and Ruby Gillis. When classmate Gilbert Blythe teases her about her carrot-red hair, she turns on him with a vengeance, and although he apologizes many times, she refuses to forgive him. Both very competitive, they continually spar back and forth in class, one trying to outdo the other. And then one day, Anne suddenly realizes she no longer hates Gilbert. But she will not admit it. (That drove me crazy; I desperately wanted Anne to go ahead and be friends with him!)

The book also follows Anne’s adventures in Avonlea, her games with Diana, Jane and Ruby, her rivalries with the Pye sisters, and her mistakes, such as dyeing her hair green and baking a cake using salt instead of sugar.

One of my favorite parts is when Anne pleads with Marilla to buy her a dress with puffed sleeves. Marilla refuses, saying her homemade dresses will do just fine. But soft-hearted Matthew sneaks off to town one day and buys the prettiest puff-sleeved dress in the store. (That brought tears to my eyes when I was eight, and it brought tears to my eyes when I saw it in the movie, many years later!)

Anne, Gilbert, and a few other classmates eventually go to the Queen's Academy where Anne obtains a teaching license in one year. She also wins the Avery Prize in English, which allows her to pursue a B.A. at Redmond College. The book ends with Matthew's death, after which Anne shows her devotion to Marilla and Green Gables by giving up the Avery Prize. Since Marilla's eyesight is failing, Anne decides to look for a teaching position at a school nearby to help her. Gilbert has secured a teaching position at the Avonlea School but gives it up so Anne can take the position, enabling her to teach at Avonlea and stay at Green Gables. Because of Gilbert’s generosity, Anne fully forgives him and they become best friends. (Finally!)

Anne of Green Gables was written by Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery, who drew upon her own childhood experiences in rural Prince Edward Island for this wonderful book. It has sold more than 50 million copies and translated into many languages.

Montgomery was born November 30, 1874, and died April 24, 1942. At the time of her death, it was reported that Montgomery died of congestive heart failure; however, her granddaughter has just revealed that she suffered from depression and took her own life with a drug overdose.

There has been much speculation about this latest discovery, some people saying Montgomery’s image has been tarnished because she committed suicide. I disagree. In my opinion, Anne of Green Gables is one of the greatest children’s books ever written; it continues to enthrall young people to this day. And the fact that she wrote 20 novels (including Anne of Green Gables, Anne of Avonlea and other sequels), over 500 short stories, an autobiography, and a book of poetry while suffering from deep bouts of depression, just shows what a dedicated writer she was.

Anne of Green Gables was written in 1908, and events are planned all over Canada this year to celebrate the centennial. I’m sure Lucy Maud Montgomery would be thrilled and honored to know her outstanding book is still being read one hundred years later.

I predict that young people all over the world, and older ones as well, will be reading it two hundred years from now. Regardless of how Montgomery died.