There are some things that seem to be part and parcel of who we are, of whom we become. Memorial Day is one for me.
This is the time I make a sentimental trip out Clinton Boulevard to pay respect to the brother-in-law I never had the privilege of knowing.
“Your mother would have been dancing on the table,” a man said to me as my friends and I walked out of church.
“I was thinking the same thing,” I answered him, wondering how in the name of Tom Thunder this younger man could have known my mother that well.
My cruise-mate Edrie Royals and Jackson companions Margaret Vise, Ann Barksdale, Carole Kirkland and I were on a Danube River cruise and our boat had docked near Kalosca, Hungary.
The tour Edrie and I had picked out for this stop was the cowboy rodeo in Kalosca.
I can’t carry a tune in a lard bucket, but on this day I could almost hum, same song, second verse in perfect voice. A group of ladies from Jackson, Ann Barksdale, Margaret Vise, Carole Kirkland, cruisemate Edrie Royals and I were on a Danube River cruise. Our ship, the Viking Jarl had docked in Kalosca, we would be there until late evening.
I check my watch — 4:20 and almost time for my afternoon dog walk with Roo Roo.
Before I put my raincoat on, and command Roo to a sit position so I can hook her up, I open a scrapbook of my Sun articles, and turn to one written three years ago today.
January 17, 2016
My brother Alvin and his wife Becky had brought me to a Christmas sing-along at the brightly decorated Country Club of Jackson. On this night we were downstairs in the Onyx, a room filled with joyous, celebrating people calling out hellos and greetings to one another.