What a night . . .

My first outdoor reading. On beautiful Biscayne Bay, lights glimmering off the water, and one of Miami’s rare cold spells.

Glenn Terry and his wife Francesca  hosted me

along with Teresa and Paul in their terrific waterfront house. Paul mixed margaritas, which I, as a non-indulger, didn’t get to taste. Everyone else said YUM! and there was lots of great food (have you ever had Gummy Bears soaked in vodka? Me either, but they didn’t last long)

It’s odd reading in the dark; people could see me, but from my vantage, the crowd was a black silhouette against the night. For all I know, everyone had their eyes shut. It’s strange how we count on faces to know how we’re doing.

I had a little light to read by and a great sound system set up by Bobby Ingram, roadie extraordinaire. Bobby calls Glenn Terry a Border Collie because he’s so good at rounding people up. Somebody should tell Obama.

My favorite moment. People asked about the photograph on the cover and I said that was me at 18, trying to look like Ava Gardner. A man came up afterwards and told me when he graduated from Chapel Hill, he had just enough money for flight training and a license. Somebody told him Ava Gardner was staying in the next town. He rented a plane, flew over her house, and buzzed it three times. She came out, according to him, “wearing a flowing white dress, waving, and confirming she was the most beautiful woman on earth.”


One response »

  1. Dahling, on a good day you STILL look like Ava. And I’ve not seen you on many bad days!

    Thinking of you all the time, I recently enjoyed another memoir from around the same time, “The Bookmaker’s Daughter.” Hope Springs, Arkansas, 30s until early 60s. Shirley Abbott ended up in Manhattan despite all the odds. You southern gals who escaped are quite something. Love the stories of your adventures. Thank you, Cyn


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