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I wanted to hunt birds when a boy. Problem was no one would take me hunting. Dad tried but hunting wasn’t in his blood. And so my hunting adventures lay

Daddy set me straight. “If you want some spending money, get a job.” Thus did I work two jobs while going through college at Georgia. I delivered flowers for Carolyn’s

During my school days the yellow bus rolled me past chicken houses. In 1972, when I taught creative writing in Lincolnton, Georgia, I’d pass those houses each day on the

Signing back-road books at Mast General has become a tradition. For four Christmases now, I’ve signed books at Columbia’s Mast General. This Christmas makes five. This store, rich with memories,

When I see a clawfoot tub, which is rare, four memories surface. First, I go back to my grandfather’s old homeplace. Next I go back to an abandoned home once

On a Sunday walk I spotted a splash of blue. Blue wildflowers. They say blue flowers are sometimes difficult to grow in gardens. “They say.” That was Dad’s go-to validation

I read that fragrances stimulate recall more so than any other sense. I knew from experience that it had to be true. You and I, we’re scentimental creatures … See

When I was a boy, come Thanksgiving, we observed a tradition that’s decidedly different today. Dad would mix some two-cycle gas, sharpen and oil the saw chain, and we’d scour

I stumbled across an old magazine feature of mine and it made me recall stops I’d made along that long, winding road called “Career.” Some memories were good; some not

November 15 my father will have been gone twenty years. Twenty years. Seems like yesterday when he lay in a bed at MUSC in Charleston. Seems like last night we