I’m headed south from Cleveland
aiming toward the Georgia line.
Two weeks I’ll spend with
Aunt Lucille, my last surviving Southern tie.
Aunt Lucille is rather feisty, widowed now
for 20 years. She owns a restaurant called
The Heart Stop, named by her husband, my Uncle Bill.
The Heart Stop serves most anything that
you could desire-deep fried catfish,
Saturday, November 9, 2013