The Book

It is said Southern Women are Steel Magnolias, and that is often the case. I decided to write a book about the strongest Magnolia I knew, a true Magnolia grandiflora - my mother. Like anyone, there were many sides to her. She was extremely complicated, to say the least. Her lifetime was full of love and loss, joy and hardship, downfalls and redemption, relapse and recovery. But through it all, there were some things she never lost sight of: always mind your manners, pay your Junior League dues, and don't forget to polish the silver. And when it was all over, I learned she was even more complicated than I thought. I loved her so, but like so many of us, never told her enough.

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

First paragraphs of Chapter 6 "A Broken Hone"

When I was just a lass in the south (in the 1960s) in my 
mother’s eyes, a social fate worse than death was to be from a 
divorced family. Her term was a "broken home". Just the way she said it made the very thought of it sound as if it were the root of most sins in life and doomed one to a destiny of social purgatory. Like many of her views, it did not take me long, as a young adult, to realize that no matter how off base, how out of date, or how far south she was, it wasn't funny.

The grand irony was that she and my father divorced after 
thirty two years of marriage and I, too, sank into that lowly social abyss and joined the ranks of those poor lost souls from "broken homes." And in my irreverent way, I never failed to play that card with her when she scolded me for some social sin I had committed.

Every time my husband and I had a difference of opinion over some issue and my mother happened to learn about it she, more often than not, took his side. One day, I was so peeved at 
something he had done, I told her if she continued to take his side, I would divorce him. The look on her face was worth the threat.



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