Woman, the only thing that old rabbit’s foot is conjuring is flies.    Best not tell them gentile Northern folks that you over there conjuring tall tales and burnt salt – sound like them Geechee and Gullah girls bringing home all them African superstitions. You gunna get some pale peepers asking about you for their plantation… View More

  I may be an old dog – don’t mean that I can’t learn new tricks. The other day, “my day off” as Mister John would call it – but let’s be honest, am I really working?- I paid a nickel for the Rabbit’s Foot Minstrel Sunday show. Now I ain’t gonna lie – it… View More

Yer gun’ nid a rabbit’s foot with er ter do list tha’ far long. Dun’ fergit da signs. Dem signs be the mostest impo’tant bit o’ conj’uh’in. Remimber, if a screech owl lit on yer chimney an’ hollered, sum’body in dat house iz goin’ ter die. Burnt salt kin fight off death. Rabbit’s foot kin… View More

Write up story of the effect produced by a deadly letter falling in the midst of a peaceful household, and scattering confusion before it was opened among the parties concerned. Burst into tears, and alarmed the neighborhood – had dreamed that something had gone horrendously wrong. On being asked what was in the letter, didn’t… View More

Dun ferget ter pay me. Dun mattah who it be, if yer need ah goopher den yer need ter pay. Us cojuh ‘oman gotta make a livin’. Bellies dun git full on roots an’ goophers. All freedom dun com’ at a price. Freedom ain’t free. Folks lik’ us knows tha’ bettah than most anyon’ else…. View More

I’ve had the most horrid day. Didn’t sleep a wink last night and saw a fine, feathery wrinkle appear, as if caught in the act of its self-creation, in the corner of my left eye in the vanity mirror this morning. Too much oolong last afternoon or, more likely, Lucretia oversteeped. Like most of her… View More

My deah Julius, ah dew believe, upon watching your ears rankle at the sound of Yankee speech, we have at least a modest patch of common ground: where do they learn to tawk like that? My race, but not my taste…

“Missus” Annie is a bit of a mood, not really speaking or eating much. She lays out in the sun in that armchair John gave her, sighing and frowning like a hot cat. It’s no fun. What I can’t understand about this folks is why I can’t do the same. Sometimes I think bout Sweetie… View More

Dear Madam, Replying to your review in the Nashville Star, I beg to say that I lived in the South a number of years when a child, and extending into manhood, and have kept pretty closely in touch all my life with the literature of the South – I have read Mr. Page and Mr…. View More

Moving to North Carolina was the best decision Annie and I made. The weather is perfect for the health of my wife. The land we bought was cheap. The soil is perfect for grapes, and the labor is cheap! I’m saving a lot of moving, which is great! The south is great! Everything is just… View More