It feels surreal to be home, home on the farm (cue Home on the Range) and see my picture plastered all over town and all over the house. There’s some hometown charm going on, and I owe a big thank you to Jason Stark of Osceola Printing for the eye-popping posters and flyers. Not only did he create the design, he handled the project from start to finish in a matter of hours during a time when I couldn’t think straight. Sometimes the right person appears at exactly the right time. And, yes, a professional makes all the difference.
Being from a small town is a great thing.
Yesterday, I stood in a long line waiting my turn at the post office. The postmaster handled each customer’s business while chatting about grandchildren and Star Wars and all sorts of things. Everyone knew everyone.
When my turn came he said, “You’re the author, aren’t you?”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling a little stunned that he recognized me. I handed him one of those yellow claim slips, and he promptly placed a heavy box on the counter. This is for your mother. Wrong address, but it has her name on it. It has to be for her—there’s only one Barbara Tate.”
I laughed and marveled that the box with the completely wrong address wasn’t lost forever in the mail universe. Small town miracle.
“Your picture is on the front door,” he said, “unless someone stole it.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
He grinned. “I told Ms. Tate it’s against the law to hang posters at the post office, but she said where’s your tape?” So I helped her hang it.”
After our trip to the post office, Momma and I ate wonderful white beans and fried okra at Sandbar Grille. With cornbread, of course.
My picture was on the window there, too.
Surreal, I tell you.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Maddie & Tae, Downside of Growing Up