Perhaps you have heard the news? Piggly Wiggly has been bought out. It’s like someone has come in and hacked away part of my childhood. I can’t imagine a world in which the Piggly Wigglys of the world disappear. Vestiges of my growed up years markings on a dry erase board, wiped clean. Piggly Wiggly will be replaced by snooty old Harris Teeter. Soon all the Hominy will soon be replaced by Hummus. Scuppernogs will go the way of maqui... Read more
Quit trying to be your children’s best friend and be their parent. That was the plea issued by Sheriff Grady Judd of Polk County, Florida. The wise Sheriff issued the remark following the suicide of 12-year-old Rebecca Sedwick, who jumped to her death after being cyber bullied by her former best friend an another 14-year-old. To his credit, Sheriff Polk took action where parents failed too. He arrested the two teens whose online tauntings encouraged – no, wait, told her... Read more
“God, you are the slim crescent of a moon that I see and my self is the earth’s shadow that keeps me from seeing all the moon. The crescent is very beautiful and perhaps that is all I should or could see; but what I am afraid of, dear God, is that my self shadow will grow so large that it blocks the whole moon..” Prayer of Flannery O’Connor I bought my nephew Landon a new winter hat. It’s... Read more
Every now and again I get the urge to leave behind the mess that is my office and the hurry that is my life and head off to a monastery. You ever feel like that? I did it once. The only thing is I didn’t know I was going to a monastery until I arrived there, which is probably not the best way to go to one. I was on book tour and my hosts in Cullman, Alabama were the... Read more
There will be a lot of people who disagree with me. I don’t mind. Disagreement is part of a healthy dialogue. I have said it a gazillion times before and I’ll reiterate it now — I never, ever want to live in the place where everyone thinks the same way. Disclaimer out of the way, I was not surprised to read the news reports stating that Miriam Carey was being treated for postpartum depression, a year after her daughter’s birth.... Read more
I often get asked which is more difficult to write, non-fiction or fiction, which is something like asking me which one of my twin daughters was more work to raise. Those who think writing fiction requires no research don’t understand the challenge of writing good fiction. Imagine if neurosurgeons approached brain surgery in the same unprepared, haphazard fashion that some people approach writing. Every book I have written has challenged me. Hopefully they have challenged the readers as well. Two... Read more
While making an appearance at Litchfield Books in South Carolina, I had the opportunity to interview a World War II veteran. Powell was parachute infantryman during World War II. A job he volunteered for, after volunteering for the Army. Like an elder Jimmy Fallon, the handsome Powell is quick to laugh and does so often. He delights in making the unexpected wise-crack. But when he speaks of his days as an infantryman, Powell’s fingers move slowly back-and-forth over the chair-arm,... Read more
I woke up in North Carolina this morning, just a stone’s throw over the mountain from where Mama and Daddy lay buried. Tomorrow I will visit their graves, leave behind a copy of MOTHER OF RAIN. I always knew that my mother was an intelligent woman, given her ability to earn her degrees even though she failed to finish high school. But it wasn’t until she was dying that I came to really understand the breadth of my mother’s intelligence.... Read more
“Looking back, I love the South so much, even though there was a time when I didn’t feel so proud of being from there. The sense of community there is unheard of in this day and age. The idea that it takes a village to raise a child—it works.” – Samuel Jackson. A few years ago, while on a different book tour, that one for Will Jesus Buy Me a Doublewide?, I happened upon the community of Cullman, Alabama. At that... Read more
The strings begin. The trumpets, clarinets and French horn chime in. One by one various instruments join in the orchestra. From the smallest piccolo in the front.To the drums and the tuba in the back. Sounds fit for a concert hall rise to the tin roof and cobalt blue rafters. As music floats out the windows, people young and old, moms and dads, children of all ages, begin to crowd the doorway of the open air classroom. The youngest get on hands and knees to... Read more
Karen Spears Zacharias
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