Wednesday, July 25, 2012
I re-read Rick Bragg and every cell in my body is alert with affection and admiration for this man's affection and admiration. Bragg wrote his classic memoir to put his family's story down, and to honor his mother. He wrote with unabashed love.
What woman doesn't love a man who unabashedly loves?
Why don't more men understand the seductive lure of straight-up loving?
All Over but the Shoutin':
I believe I was drawn to those stories because of her; because of all the lessons my mother tried to teach me, the most important was that every life deserves a certain amount of dignity, no matter how poor or damaged the shell that carries it. The only time I ever made her truly ashamed of me was the day I made fun of a boy from a family that was even poorer than us. His daddy had shaved his head to cheat the lice, and I laughed at him, made fun of him, until I saw the look in my momma's eyes.
So, this story is for her, as have been, in small ways, all the stories I have ever told and the method in which I told them.