A Glimpse of Eudora

I spoke at a Senior Citizen retirement home yesterday... these folks were GREAT! I talked about Southern accents and Southern Literature. And what fun questions these folks of gray hair and soft eyes asked. Pointed questions about writing. Their interest in me and what made me tick as a writer moved me. I had a blast! Their hearing not quite acute, but their minds were sharp and their tongues like a razor.

I enjoyed every second as I related to these old souls in their love of family, home, and hearth.

One question was, "Who is your favorite Southern writer?" Of course, that answer is often varied ... but naming Eudora Welty sparked the interest of one woman in the corner.

Afterward, she came up to my signing table to buy a book and said, "My name is Margaret H. Williard Pipkin, and I used to live in Jackson, Mississippi and I used to go grocery shopping with Eudora."

Imagine my surprise. "You did?" Shocked, I wanted to touch the hands that may have touched Eudora.

"Why, yes," she said. "She lived in the strangest purple house."

And that's all she would say about her. But her smile was warm and I found her eyes smiled as big as her mouth. She was remembering. Going back in time to the days when she and Eudora Welty must have walked to the Piggly Wiggly or shared a car ride to the corner store. Maybe comparing their grocery list or coupons. Trying to remember the basic ingredients for corn bread casserole or sweet potato cakes. I watched her sip her ice tea while I signed a few more books hoping that I could ask her a few more questions about her old acquaintance.

But when I had finished ... Margaret H. Williard Pipkin was gone. All she left in her wake were a few words that stirred my creative juices and made me wish that I had but one moment with Eudora ...

As I rode home, I realized, I did have a moment with Eudora. Through her friend, Margaret, Eudora Welty reached out to touch me yesterday. It may be as close as I'll ever get ... but I will never forget that smile on Margaret's face. It was as if she were having a conversation with her in her head. Maybe she was.

And that's good enough for me.

Blessings to you and yours.