Mother has stage-four Terminal ADD. It hasn’t killed her yet, but it came close several times.  Back when I was a kid, it was called being disorganized, procrastination, and not getting things done. Having five kids, a-worse-than-unhelpful-husband, Mother had more work than six women could have accomplished. That put the icing on the cake.  Daddy should have been a

The companionable thing about growing up in the fifties and sixties in the rural South was that everyone went to the same school, churches and knew everything about everyone.  When the women got the kids off to school, beds made, dishes done, wash on the line, and the beans on to soak for supper, they might have a little time to visit a neighbor for coffee before heading home to get the baby down for a nap, finish their

“This is going to be beautiful.  I can see it already.  Just stand here.  Oh, this is going to blow your mind.  Are you ready?  Say cheeee…shit.”

I suspect the photographer was an ex-lover of the bride.  Or a disgruntled father-in-law.

Talk about taking a cold shower.