I read at Bookstore 1 Sarasota on December 27. My daughter Allison set it up, and she packed the house. A really nice article by Susan Rife in the Sarasota paper didn’t hurt. She actually found a picture of Governor Ross Barnett.
I told stories about what it was like to be a woman in the South in the ’40s and ’50s, with no job, no money of our own, and no voice.
The biggest surprise of the evening was rediscovering Cornelia Long, my first best friend (Les didn’t get her picture). From birth to age 7, I lived on Monroe Street in Jackson, Mississippi; Cornelia lived a block away on Pinehurst and, from the time I could walk, my nurse Marie trundled me up to her house to play in the afternoons. She had long dark curls, the kind that wound around your finger, and big blue eyes. We’ve hardly seen each other since those days–I left during the war and didn’t move back to the same neighborhood; she went off to boarding school. Years and years have gone by, but she’s still darling, with dark hair and big blue eyes.
I had my first crush on her older brother, Larry Long. When I was three, I ran away from home, headed up the street to see him. I didn’t get far.
Nothing like a line of people holding your book. This young lady is in the Army, stationed in Seattle, home for the holidays.