All Over But the Shoutin'
“She was small, delicate, and her hair was almost black. She had huge brown eyes, and a big red Pontiac Le Mans she used to drive me around in when my rolling junk, third-hand muscle cars were dead on the side of the road. My girl cousins said she looked like a porcelain doll, that she was perfect. She was smart—made all A’s in high school and college—and nice, too. I’m pretty sure she still is.Her daddy read Rex Stout novels and her momma made the best macaroni and cheese casserole I’ve ever ha...d. They raised their only child in a middle-class neighborhood of brick houses and well-fed cats. The dogs all had collars, and didn’t bite.We met in Jacksonville, when I was working for the Jacksonville News. She was a sophomore at Jacksonville State, training to be a social worker and working part-time at the Weaver City Hall, answering phones. Her daddy kind of liked me, I thought. Her momma kind of didn’t, but that is often the way of it, cliché or not.Not long after I got my first good full-time job, at the Anniston Star, I proposed.MoreLess
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