i always said i was gonna’ take some little road trips all by myself, and well bless goodness if i didn’t just up and do it yesterday – and i wound up walking on holy ground . . .
i always said i was gonna’ just pull over and take pictures. i’ll admit to being a teensy bit worried about whether mother’s dainty little sedan could take pulling over on these country roads, but you know that ole’ girl did just fine. i believe she’s got an inner suv that had itself a big ole’ time.
now my boy kipp and i call them story (STOW ree) houses cause they just conjure up the storyteller in us, and we always said that one day we’re gonna’ just stop and take pictures when we see one. well, i started without you, kipp:
i’d no doubt be telling completely different stories if i’d ever had to pick cotton:
to prove i was where i said i was:
“i ‘spect people picked at him on account of the way he dressed,” whispered blondell. “i got a cousin just like that,” i told her. “his mama didn’t have any more sense than to bring him down from new jersey dressed in linen shorts, knee socks, and a little ole’ beanie cap to match. he’s episcopalian now.”
a chunk of boo radley’s tree. the knot hole’s down in the gift shop. they sell chewing gum out of it.
a juror’s chair. i tend to believe blondell when she says this is the original seat.
me. sitting in the witness chair. (yes, of course i took the fifth.)
the witness spittoon. “can you imagine,” blondell asked me, “spittin’ in public RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF ALL THESE PEOPLE?” i could not.
the courtroom itself from the public entry:
and finally, the picture de resistance snapped by me. sitting in the judge’s chair. you knew i’d do it, didn’t you?