Today the children and grandchildren of Bloody Sunday marchers walked hand-in-hand across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama, to commemorate the march of April, 1963, that led to the Voting Rights Act of 1964.
I remember that day and the march. I lived about one hundred miles north in Gadsden, Alabama. We heard the news, then watched the TV coverage as it played and replayed. Like many Alabamians, I watched in disbelief, horrified at the beatings, angry that this was happening in my state. I paced and wrung my hands. I did a lot of hand wringing that next year.
A Texas-big hootenanny fun fest comes up Thursday through Saturday, Jan. 15-18, the fifteenth annual Pulpwood Queen’s Girlfriends Weekend, for the first time in Nacogdoches, The brainchild of Kathy Murphy, founder of the 600+ tiara-wearing book clubs all over the U.S. and in nine other countries, Girlfriends Weekend features authors serving dinner to readers, a street dance, and finally, the finale, the Big Hair Ball, the themed costume party. From past years:
Enjoyed a good visit with Rick Bragg at the Atlanta Press Club luncheon Nov. 13. Introduced him to Elizabeth Enney, the protagonist of my next book, and Mickey Goodman, southeastern president of ASJA.
Rick was in town promoting his new book about Jerry Lee Lewis. I learned more than I ever imagined about Jerry Lee, even that he’d married yet another time, this last one to a caregiver. Many years ago my brother-in-law brought Jerry Lee to play at Gadsden, AL, where our family lived, just about the time that Jerry Lee married his 13-year-old cousin.
Rick was best in talking off the cuff, in fact was almost poetic talking about the demise of the Democratic party in Alabama. I know it’s hard to think of poetry and politics, but Rick can make the mundane cry, bleed, wail, or dance. He’s just that good.