Kathryn Tucker Windham, storyteller and inspiration

According to Kathryn Tucker Windham, yelling "Rabbit, rabbit," at the top of your lungs, before your feet hit the floor on the first morning of every month will guarantee you have good luck all month long. To keep that luck going, eat the pointy end of a piece of pie last. Eating it first is a sure way to bring bad luck.

But to me, the best luck of all came just through knowing Kathryn Tucker Windham, the Alabama storyteller, writer, photographer and inspiration who died this past Sunday at the age of 93.

While she became famous for her ghost stories, including stories about Jeffrey, the ghost who lived with her in her Selma home, the stories I loved best were of her family and friends. I feel like I knew her aunt Bet, the local postmistress who tried to save a tree from demolition with a shotgun and a rocking chair. And her daddy who ran the local bank and told stories to Kathryn. And the carpenter who built the pine box she'll be buried in. She stored her mother's rose point crystal in it in the garage.

I hope that this past June 1, she shouted "Rabbit, rabbit," louder than ever, and is celebrating her good luck with the next great adventure.

One of the funnest days ever was a day spent in Selma in 2008 with Mrs. Windham. I blogged about it then if you'd like to read more: here, here and here.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Donkey with a death wish

Image
At the edge of the caldera, in the tiny town of Fira, on Santorini, my sister, Susan, and I peered out at the Agean Sea, marveling at a blue they created just for Greece. Our eyes traveled to donkeys ferrying people and things up from the boats docked at the old port below. I don’t remember which of us thought it would be fun to hike the zigzagged path to the port, then ride a donkey back up, but it was a terrible, scary, asinine, stupid idea. It was still fairly early in the morning when we started down the thousands of wide, uneven, cobblestone, horror-movie steps. But the sun that beat on the island in August didn't have a clock. We'd finished our water and worked up a sweat before we hit the half-way point. At the port we poked into gift shops, bought a couple of trinkets and drank more water before seeking out our animal transport. We climbed a few steps, handed over our money and sat down on the next donkey that waited beside the top step. A mother and her two
Read more

Nana goes to college

Image
My Nana died a week ago today. She was 92 years old and lived, at least as far as I knew, a full, wonderful life, though she certainly had her share of hardship. She left behind three daughters (my mother included), eight grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren. We were all at the burial and memorial service in Charlotte, NC, this past Friday. Five of the eight grandchildren spoke about Nana at the service. And I learned that she apparently thought we were all as special as I know I was to her. That was the theme that ran through all five of our stories. Here's what I said about her. I knew from early on that Nana loved me, not in some abstract, send me a card with money in it for Christmas kind of way, but in a concrete way that made me know she wanted me around. She introduced me to her friends. She wanted to know mine. She was a part of my life. I took all of that for granted until my freshman year of college. I was at Emory, living in a dorm that had been built in the 1920s. I
Read more

The cats who killed Christmas

Image
Free to BAD home , three cats who killed our Christmas tree! The crime: Close-up of the victim: The carnage: Last gasp of pink Christmas lights: Death of the flamingos-pulling-Santa's-sleigh ornament. My very favorite one, hand painted by my cousin Tina. The suspects: Dusty, the ringleader Stewie, the muscle Miss Kitty, the brains behind the operation Approach these felines carefully. They are considered clawed and dangerous!
Read more