They say you can’t go home again. This is probably quite true. But, every once in a while, Chris and I make a journey that is lovely and bittersweet.
Tom Hardy is a friend who is a good raconteur and who has a long history in Columbus. Recently he shared the following story with me. I could not improve on it, so I’ll let him tell it himself:
“Recently I was driving down Seventh Street South and saw an old water oak tree, between the street and the sidewalk, which brought to mind an incident that has remained in my memory for nearly 80 years.
We fall in love for mysterious reasons. I fell I love with my husband because he said kind things about his boss, and because my knees got weak when he hugged me. That love had nothing to do with wealth or status. It was an intuitive knowing that this man was something special. I proposed to Chris four months after we met and have never regretted one second of our marriage.
First, a correction and some amplification on my last column: Thank you to Scott McKenzie, of the Mississippi University for Women Culinary Arts Institute, and local restaurateur Sarah Labensky for noticing my mistake on the author of “Larousse Gastronomique.” It was Prosper Montagne who penned the first edition of this work.
A couple of Saturdays ago a singing pal of mine and I took a day trip over through the Delta. The drawing card was a concert to celebrate the start-up of the Delta Music Institute (DMI) at my old alma mater, Delta State University.
There was a time when almost every science fiction film featured a scene where the spacemen landed and said, “Take me to your leader.”