[My brother, Ron, has called me Queenie for as long as either of us can remember, but we all know Mom is the true Queen of All Kindness and Potato Salad. When this post showed up as a memory on my feed this morning, I simply had to post it for y’all once again. Ain’t Mom royally regal?!]
I love running across pix of Mom. Here she is, sometime around four years ago, visiting me in my former Delta abode. When I was in town, Mom wandered over to hang with me two or three times a day. Usually, Mom held court on my porch, where we solved the problems of the world. We were laughing so hard about something one summer day on the porch that Mrs. Rowlette—who just happened to be driving by—pulled into my driveway and asked what was so funny. We invited her onto the sacred porch, where she laughed with us for the next hour. Mrs. Rowlette was not the first, nor was she the last, to find out what happened on the porch, stayed on the porch.
When the weather and temperature didn’t cooperate, this bigly chair by the bigly picture window at my place was Mom’s throne. Mom’s style needs no neckwear, although I’d give her the bowtie off my neck if she wanted it. And you can see where I got my basic fashion sensibilities, right?
