I spent the afternoon at the Southern Baptist church, behind a cut crystal punchbowl unendingly refilled with sherbet and Sprite, carefullly ladling out cupfuls to attendees of Aunt E’s silk orchid-strewn 99th birthday party—at which the Birthday Girl didn’t sit down for a minute but instead worked the room, incessantly introducing all to all lilke the Southern Lady she has been becoming since 1906 —and I found myself thinking, “it’s in the genes, right?”
I spent the afternoon at the Southern Baptist church, behind a cut crystal punchbowl unendingly refilled with sherbet and Sprite, carefullly ladling out cupfuls to attendees of Aunt E’s silk orchid-strewn 99th birthday party--at which the Birthday Girl didn’t sit down for a minute but instead worked the room, incessantly introducing all to all lilke the Southern Lady she has been becoming since 1906 --and I found myself thinking, “it’s in the genes, right?”