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tell me a story
For as long as I can remember I have had this demon inside that insists on writing or talking things out. The catharsis associated with telling a story somehow lessens the pain and multiplies the joy of the whole thing and gives the listener....or reader, a different perspective to ponder while affording the storyteller some amount of comfort in letting the cat out of the bag. There's a trunk full of handwritten journals here at Casa Poopie that detail every single emotion of most every day up to the point where I got married to the keyboard. Unless the house burns or Osama bombs the farm, I have a history of my life to sift through when I get to the nursing home.

Like many Southern girls, I was raised to believe that you don't tell secrets because, Lord have mercy, people might talk about your business. Bless their hearts, they ain't got nothing better to do I reckon. If they're talkin' about you and yours, just remember that somebody else is getting a break and they probably need it. As for me, I don't give a rat's ass what people say. I know who my friends are when crunch time comes around.

The attic is mostly vacant now with the important pieces of the past sifted through and boxed up to pass onto the next generation. As you can imagine, there were plenty of books there. Nancy Drew was my hero as a pre-teen looking for adventure and there are several of hers in the collection. There's a vintage version of Pinocchio with a hand written inscription from my baby-sitter "To Janie, On your 4th birthday. May you have many more. With love always, Cricket" I found the plastic statues of Bach, Chopin and Beethoven that I earned by working at piano lessons week after week with my aunt and uncle. There are dolls...a bride who walked once upon a time and Raggedy Ann. Barbie got sold to a collector a few years ago for rent money, but I've still got Skipper and Ken and a couple of Madame Alexanders that I love with all my heart. I washed and ironed the baby clothes that Mama saved for me and even the tiny little sweatshirt from my elementary school days that made me officially an Alice Thurmond Chief.

to be continued...
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