By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net This fiddle’s origin may never be known. Long did Grandad’s fiddle hang on my mother’s living room wall. I could never walk by it without wondering . . . “What’s its story?” Best I recall, my mother didn’t know its provenance, that fancy wordContinue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern Writer In my youth we had a daily newspaper, The Augusta Chronicle. What we didn’t get every day was local news. That’s what made The Lincoln Journal special. Farmers, grandmothers, country storeowners, housewives, and others pulled news about people they knew from their mailbox. “TheContinue Reading
Grandma’s petunias By Tom Poland – A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Vintage petunias, those flowers my grandma loved, I saw them in youth. As I sort through my memory album they reappear. Soft and delicate . . . pastel petals of white and pink, lavender, like watercolors. In the flowers’ throats, subtleContinue Reading
I loved her, lost her, and found her again. By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net I fished many a farm pond as a boy. When I left my red-varnished cane pole for Miss Zebco, I fell in love. I filled my Johnson & Johnson first aid kit turned tackle boxContinue Reading
The gardenia’s perfume remains as magical as ever. By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Squall lines, thunder and lighting, and tornadoes signify the changing of the guard. Winter’s heavy air gives way to lighter air, and soon air conditioning will cool the masses. The night air will be locked away.Continue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Late 1950s. May 1. Riding with Dad by a cement block house. White. A few clothes out back on the clothesline. Diapers mainly. A tricycle with a wheel missing lay over on its side. A few rusty chairs shaded a patch of grass. CloseContinue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net I visit cemeteries never knowing what I’ll find. February 10, a cemetery gave me a story that has the elements of a great movie—risk, bravery, tragedy, the largest fire in the country, and a drunken sailor with wobbly feet. The story actually began whenContinue Reading
The split-rail fence, in harmony with the earth. By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net A fence has become more than a way to mark property — delineate — as a five-dollar word goes. “I put that fence up to delineate precisely where my line runs.” Redundant. To delineate is toContinue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Man Will Always Wage War I remember the Vietnam anti-war protests at the University of Georgia. Some group firebombed the Army ROTC building and I recall four protestors walking abreast holding a “Stop War Now” banner. “Stop war now” chanted the throng behind them.Continue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Mom never darkened the door of a juke joint, but that didn’t stop her from rendering a harsh judgment. “The only people who go to juke joints are drunks and floozies.” I have a hunch where her belief came from. Early in her marriage,Continue Reading
By Tom Poland, A Southern WriterTomPoland.net Roads tell stories. I’ve come across the “Mule Kick That Killed Eight People” in Edgefield County. I’ve seen stores fall to arsonists along Highway 378. I’ve seen homes go dark and swallowed by vines, and I’ve seen wheelchair ramps go up as the yearsContinue Reading