Every teacher I had in elementary school wrote “Talks too much” for her comment on every report card I ever received. Ever. (Ask my perfect-student sister Angie, if you don’t believe me.) I told my mama that I didn’t talk too much, “I just have a lot to say.” My daddy’s one-legged friend, George, has called me Blabbermouth for almost 50 years. My friends at camp called me Mouth of the South. Recently, I had a Facebook friend tell me I “have such a talent with words.” I much prefer that to “talks too much.”
My twin daughters left for separate colleges one month after my grandparents’ house sold from the family. I had some time on my hands and some memories in my head. My parents have both been dead for years, and my children didn’t know them. If I am not fortunate enough to know my grandchildren, maybe they can know a little bit of me.
Thanks for reading,
Celeste King Conner
My sisters (Starla on left and Angie on right) and me (center) at Mama and Daddy King’s house for Easter, 1967