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That first story connected to another, then another, and another. This led me, as a youngster, to form a worldview of life as a chain made of connected links...      
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To read more click on the button or magazine Image below 2020 Georgia Independent Author of the Year Short Story Collection - Winner Thank you to all my readers!
  You got your first driver's license without ever having been behind the wheel of a car. At fourteen, following Sister's footsteps from six years earlier, I worked Saturdays at the dime store, roughly the equivalent of this generation's Dollar Store. But way cooler. As Sister had done, I finagled rides to traverse the six miles from home to town and spent untold hours waiting for return treks at our favorite uncle's downtown grocery store. To read more click on the button below or click on the magazine cover image    Azaleas herald spring as they adorn the southern landscape and flame around foundations of homes. Their beauty abounds at that other herald of spring, The Masters Tournament in Augusta. Not that I play golf, but I spent a couple of decades on courses with a husband who was so avid about the game I call him Golfer. Fairways, manicured to the nth degree, smell of newly mown grass, an aroma of my childhood. Since I wasn’t chasing a little white ball or fretting over the mounting number of strokes, I often meditated beside peaceful duck ponds, also known as water hazards. A Sebring, Florida, alligator moseying from pond to pond, led me to discover how fast a golf cart really can go. To read more click on the button below or click on the magazine cover image 
To read more click on the button below or click on the magazine cover image   What happens to you when you read this passage from Girl in a Foxhole by Donna McGinty? I waited for Peter and Beth at the curb, straddling my 1940 Champion bike, trying to remember when I'd added the metal bell and front wire basket and side mirrors and streamers off the handlebars. It had come with a headlight and a back-wheel rack. Gone were the stupid saddlebags I got my first Christmas in Texas back when Champion was my turquoise horse. I blushed to remember how I'd raced up and down the street, snorting and rearing up on the back wheel, shouting "whoa" and skidding to a halt. To read more click on the button below or click on the magazine cover image.   Watermelon cutting around Auntie's backyard reunion table was a neighborhood event in my day. Surrounded by yard swings for adults, and plenty of nearby stoops, steps, and stumps for kids, Uncle Bull plunged a butcher knife into the sweaty green rind. SCHUNK! To read more click on the button below or click on the magazine cover image.  |
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