“Religion isn’t like cleaning a chicken,” I told him. ‘You can’t take the messy parts out.”
Category: Appalachian fiction
Nonna Gaylene Walks the Floor (A Harshbarger Mills Story) part 3
I piled everything in a skillet and heated it until it was palatable, dumped everything in a big bowl, and marched out to his run.
Nonna Gaylene Walks the Floor (a Harshbarger Mills Story)
Part 2 I started feeding Pace during the most beautiful Indian summer I’ve ever seen. Lucky feeds the hounds once a day, but by September, Pace was… Read more “Nonna Gaylene Walks the Floor (a Harshbarger Mills Story)”
Nonna Gaylene Walks the Floor (A Harshbarger Mills Story.)
I haven’t been feeding Lucky’s hounds. I hate them. I was, and still am, feeding pace, the monster dog Lucky flew in from Texas on a plane.
Susie and Nonna con’t (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
Other than Nonna, I haven’t seen a woman wear an apron in years. “It’s easy for you, Susie. You can talk to anybody. I’ve never talked to anybody much in my life.”
Nonna and Susie con’t (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
“It’s not old stuff,” I explain. “They call it Appalachian crafts. The woman who sold that awful quilt made three hundred dollars. You know what she told me? Her dog whelped on it.”
Susie and Nonna (a Harshbarger Mills Story)
I want to take Nonna to Mill’s Bottom, to a low, flat ground where people buy and sell everything, where money changes hands like water and hard cash is plucked down for junk.
Intro to “Nonna” (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
The King, alive on a hot pink tee shirt, lives again. Of the four poses, this one is his favorite. This is the way he would look, Reuben decided, if he were a star.
Ray Welk, 1911-1962 (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
For years and years, Iris was the wife of the town’s only mortician. She’s popped in, treating me like a source of income, unannounced and unafraid.
That’s Not Love (A Harshbarger Mills Story, 1944
“Agnes, Woody Garrett is a married man.”
Agnes sat straight up. “But he said he loved me!”
