Tink had been in Los Angeles for a week, so that morning before his plane left LAX, it occurred to me that a good wifely thing to do would be to welcome him back to the Rondarosa with a home-cooked meal.
We had a funeral at church the other day, which was not unusual. Rodney laid his work aside and came to direct the choir. That, too, was not unusual. I sang in the choir. Now that was very unusual.
Everyone loved Mama. And they loved stories about her. This is a column written before her death but never published. I decided to share it to celebrate Mama. She was a true Southern original.
By FAITH HEATON JOLLEYDeseret News National
She was not a pretty woman in the days of her youth. Her lips were too thin, her forehead too high and her eyes so round that they seemed to bulge into the lens of the glasses she wore.
Most husbands, if they carry a photo of their wives, like for it to be one of glamour and beauty. That would not be my husband.
One year ago I prepared to welcome another spring in a way that has become a family tradition: running the Boston Marathon.
It is each of the many Easters of my life that I remember more clearly than any other holiday. Christmases blur together with only a few standing out in my memory, such as the one when it snowed all day, the year I lost my voice completely, and the two times that I wasn't home - one working in Washington, D.C., and another in London.
For years, I blamed it on those richly royal blue suede high heel pumps. The ones with the ridiculously tall, spiked heel and absurdly pointed toe. I was 22 when I bought them, 36 when I donated them to the Salvation Army.
The woman looked over the selection of books, picked up four and smiled. "My husband said to buy whatever I wanted."
They all come with some kind of a price and all with a certain amount of disappointment but still Rodney keeps trying.
Any self-respecting Southern woman has a list of casserole recipes a mile long ready to bake at a moment's notice. You got a sickness or a death in your family, we've got just the casserole for you.
Mama had great stories. My favorite was the only one I asked often for her to repeat. It has become something of an anthem in my life.
The Georgia Salzburger Society will celebrate its 280th Landing Day on Saturday at Jerusalem Lutheran Church.
By chance, we happened upon him in a small gift shop. The clerk recognizing me laughed and said, "What a coincidence! She just bought a copy of your book!" She gestured toward a small woman browsing through a group of men's sweaters.
Tisha Holland put her heart into a school project this spring.
Mama used to fry biscuits. If you knew Mama, that doesn't surprise you because she fried every food possible. In the course of her life, I knew her to fry green beans, corn, grits and cornmeal mush.
Q: Since our daughter, now 2 years old, was born we have lived with my parents. Being the first and only grandchild, she has been the center of attention. Several months ago, our son was born and we moved into our own home. Almost immediately, our daughter began pulling her hair out, sometimes in handfuls. Doctors have said she does it for attention and we should just ignore it. That's what we've done but it has not stopped. It's now gotten so bad that I've cut her hair because the side she pulls has gotten so ...
There are many things I love about the South. We're fiercely patriotic. We're neighborly. We're storytellers without equal. We're unabashedly and unapologetically faithful. We're proudly hospitable. But here's what I love just a little bit better than all the rest: We believe mightily in courtesy and manners.
Q: The "sassiness" that I have heard so much about from my friends started a few months ago with my 5-year-old daughter. She will say things to me that I actually find myself tongue-tied on how or what to say to correct her. Sometimes, she apologizes, which tells me she knows she's talking disrespectfully to me. What do you think about 10 minutes of time out for this sort of thing?
Georgia Tourism, a division of the Georgia Department of Economic Development, announced the launch of the state's newly redesigned tourism Web site. ExploreGeorgia.org offers visitors custom features, including the new Georgia Trip Planner, shareable trip ideas, interactive maps and more.
In the tiny country church where I spent most of the first 22 years of my life, where I found the Lord at the age of 11, where, without fail, I had the leading part in every Christmas pageant and where my daddy laid down the law in more ways than one, we sang hymns from a brown songbook and a green one that were filled with the haunting melodies that have penetrated the Appalachians for many decades.
Q: When he throws a tantrum, which happens several times a day, my 20-month-old often gets down on the floor and starts banging his head. Worried that he may hurt himself, I pick him up and comfort him. I know that reinforces head-banging, but I don't know what else to do.
Not long ago, a friend of mine was huffing, puffing and carrying on something awful about an injustice she had recently suffered. She had dealt with someone rather devious and the result was, well, rather devious.
Q: My 26-month-old daughter will go on the potty happily every hour when told (we're using your "potty bell" and it's working extremely well) and produces every time. As a result, she's having very few if any wee incidents.
It was a couple of years before Mama just up and died without warning and when we least expected it, that I was visiting her one day.
Q: We are very concerned about our 8-year-old grandson's lying. He always pleads innocence and wonders plaintively why no one ever believes him. When someone confronts him with some misdeed they saw him do (example: poking holes in the back door screen), he merely shrugs his shoulders and grins. His parents have punished him repeatedly by taking away screen privileges, but to no avail. They've also told him the story of the boy who cried wolf to explain why no one believes him. This has been going on since he was a small child. We are all concerned ...
Somewhere along the line, it seems, people have stopped talking about the American Dream. I can't recall the last time I heard anyone, in person or through the media, remind folks that we live in the greatest country on earth and that here in this land of profound freedom, opportunities abound and no one, regardless of race or level of economic upbringing, is held back from grand and lofty aspirations.
Thousands of days, all those filled with clouds, rain, snow or sunshine, have passed since that time, yet the lesson sticks stubbornly to my heart.
It happened recently. The 20th anniversary of the death of stock car racer Davey Allison. Maybe you remember him. Maybe you don't.
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