Alabana moves to East Texas--great folk tales

Want to hear a seemingly authentic East Texas voice spinning tales of World War II times and little towns and gossip and local characters? And talking about such radio programs as Fibber McGee and such things as blackouts--you have to be of a certain age to remember these things, but they were all nostalgic to me. To hear about them just listen to Jim Lee read from his new collection of short stories, A Texas Jubilee (TCU Press). Now Jim will be the first to tell you that many of these stories are based on incidents he remembers from his home town of Leeds, Alabama, and many of the characters come from there. But being, as he now is, the grandfather of Texas folk tales and folklore (and a Fellow of the Texas Folklore Society), he moved  them to his adopted state where he's lived longer than I care to tell you. At first, he set these tales in Bonham but then he decided he didn't know enough about Bonham, so he moved them to the fictional town of Bodark Springs and the characters and stories began to emerge almost on their own, with Jim as a conduit. He'll tell you he's not a writer but he is--he's a master of the short story. He'll also tell you the stories have much in common with Alabama, because East Texas is the South, and anywhere east of I-35 is the South; west of that highway is the West.
Delightful evening tonight. The Bookish Frogs (another name for friends of TCU Press) met at the Fort Worth Botanic Gardens for a pot-luck supper and evening with Jim Lee. An impromptu happy hour developed at my house first, with Melinda, production manager at the press, and Carol Roark who said she was going and did I want a ride, and then Christian who came along to get Jacob and stayed an hour, and finally Elizabeth who wandered in after making movies with Jacob. We had a happy time, nibbling on this wonderful rosemary/olive oil asiago cheese I get at Central Market, so wonderful Carol and I were almost late to the party.
Dinner was good--it's amazing the things people bring to pot-luck suppers. One good friend always brings a bok choy salad because it's such a hit. There was potato salad and--be still my heart!--spanakopita (so delicious), tuna salad, fried chicken and ribs, and so much more. I made a layered salad--one of those retro things where you layer the salad, spread mayo and sour cream on the top and let it sit all night. Green peas are an essential ingredient--except I forgot and found them on the counter after I'd' finished off the salad and no way to add them then. They'll be good on leftover salad tomorrow.
I saw people I hadn't seen in a while and was glad to see, missed some familiar faces, but all in all it was a lovely evening. And Jim was the star, as he always is whenever he speaks. If anyone ever had a natural talent for humor, it's Jim Lee. So, cheers for him and his new book. May he sell many, many copies.

Buy this book! I heard a wonderful program on this collection of short stories tonight, and I guarantee you'll chuckle--maybe a few belly laughs--all the way through it. Jim Lee, the author, is an old and treasured friend, although he claimed publicly tonight that I once rejected his short stories on the grounds that short story collections are hard to sell (only time I've been publicly booed that I can remember). In my defense, the stories were then set in Alabama...now he's moved them to Texas and caught the flavor, humor, and pathos of rural Texas. And he'll sell them because he'll do public talks about them and captivate people. I should have had more foresight. I do remember the postal carrier from those stories years ago, and he's again prominent in this collection.
Jim is many things--a scholar, a prolific author of nonfiction, essays, and book reviews, a folklorist--but above all he is a raconteur, a story teller, a public speaker par excellence. He can spin a yarn that will keep you fascinated or send you into smiles if not giggles. And sometimes he breaks into song, which he did tonight. He taught English at the University of North Texas for forty years or more, served as department chair for a long time. He's a member of everything that counts in Texas--Texas Institute of Letters, Texas Literary Hall of Fame, Fellow of the Texas Folklore Society. But he's also a loyal friend who reads what others have written and offers unvarnished opinons--sometimes too unvarnished. And, finally, he's a gentleman. These days he generally wears a fedora and tips it when he meets a lady. I've known ladies to swoon over that handsome man wearing a hat. I won't divulge his age here, but he's older than you think and than he looks, and he talks about it often.
For a long while, when I was director of TCU Press, Jim was our acquisitions editor. He was proud of pointing out that his letter of appointment specified "without compensaation." But he made a lot of good acquisitions and probably saved me from some major mistakes. We used to lunch often and shared family stories, ups and downs. He never hesitated to take me to task when he thought I was out of line, and I appreciated that. These days, I don't see much of him, and I miss him. He told me recently he was staying home and washing his hands frequently to avoid the flu; I think he was staying home and writing short stories. This, his first venture into published fiction is further proof of his versatility.
Jim Lee, that transplant from Alabama, is a true Texan, and he's produced a book that is true Texas.

OLd friends are gold

Make new friends, but keep the old

These are silver, but those are gold.

An old friend, Jim Lee (sometimes known as James Ward Lee) took me and Melinda to lunch today for my birthday--a delightful occasion with talk of politics, publishing, and trivia. I've known Jim at least since the early 1980s and maybe before. I remember going to a conference on Texas Literature--he, Tom Pilkingotn, and Don Graham co-edited a collection of essays on Texas literature which was the basis of the conference. I knew Jim Lee by reputation and perhaps by then I had already contributed to his biblioigraphy of Southwestern Literature.

But over the years our professional relationship grew. He was chair of the English department at the University of North Texas, and he used to call me periodically to announce that he'd had a "million-dollar idea"--that usually meant work for me. Some turned out to be two-cent ideas but a few were really good. When he came to Fort Worth, we occasionally had lunch and slowly our professional relaitonship became a personal friendship.

About 12-15 years ago (he'll correct me on this) he moved to Fort Worth. One day he was in my office and eyed the stack of manuscript submissions. "I could help you with that," he said. So he became the acquisitions editor for TCU Press, with a letter of appointment from the provost that clearly stated "with no compensation." We loved having Jim in the office--he was funny, witty, always up. But he drove us wild with his haphazard notebook in which he kept a record of submissions and what he'd done about them. There finally came the day that he announced that it was no longer fun, and he  quit, leaving the acquisitions--and that notebook--to me.

By the time he moved to Fort Worth, Jim was a single man, but he had a harem of women trailing after him. Once the man who was then editor of the press asked, "What is this? The Jim Lee harem?" I told him  yes, and I was proud to be part of it. But Jim soon began to keep company with a woman he met at a party at my house. Several people who knew us both thought we should have paired up, so once at lunch--we went to lunch often in those days--I asked him when he was casting his eye about he didn't look at me. He was purely astonished. "I like you better than most people I know. Why would I want to ruin that?" It was probably one of the nicest compliments I ever got.

Jim and I have collaborated on books--Literary Fort Worth and Elmer Kelton: Memories and Essays most recently--and TCU Press published his collection of essays, Adventures with a Texas Humanist (with a clear nod to Walter Prescott Webb's classic Adventures of a Texas Naturalist). We work well together, though we have also been known to quarrel to the point that one colleague once said, "For God's sake, it's like a bad marriage." I guess that's why Jim and I are good friends.
TCU Press will publish a collection of his short stories in 2013, but he warns that he could be dead by then. Melinda and I told him he couldn't die because he'd have to promote the book. When I said he needed to go on Facebook to promote, he said, "I'd have to commit suicide if I did that." Jim is nothing if not cantakerous--but loveably so.

I don't see much of Jim these days, and I miss him. So lunch today was a fine treat and a fine birthday present. Yep, old friends are gold, and we must keep them.

Remembering Elmer Kelton--once again

I didn't post a blog last night because I was consumed with reading a pdf proof of Elmer Kelton: Essays and Memories. It's not a festschrift in the proper sense of that term, because it includes several personal memories, but it is a book in tribute to the late, beloved author. I read it once in Austin, surrounded by all the hubbub of family. When I came home and read in peace and quiet I was amazed at how much more I caught--little things like misplaced commas and quotes mostly, but a few misused words. And, horrors, a dangling modifier--a grammatical error that can send me screaming into the night.
The book is due from TCU Press in the spring. Jim Lee and I co-edited--we've teamed up on some good projects. The essays and memories in this one are by people who knew Elmer well--all friends because everyone he met became his friend, but some of these folks have taught his work in the classroom. And probably my favorite essay is the one by his son, Steve, who succeeded his dad as editor of Livestock Weekly. Steve subtly blends in a son's memories with a more business-like assessment of way Elmer's work as an agricultural journalist contributed to the realism of his fiction. A truly great essay from a guy whose arm I had to twist to get him to write it.
Now I've sent the corrections off and am feeling--well, lazy, idle, whatever. Yesterday I bustled around and got lots done, like pulling up dead plants from the porch and a wash, but today I've been sort of lackadaisical and had such a sound nap that I woke up totally disoriented. Ate too big a dinner of leftover potato salad and egg salad and feel full and sleepy. But my Thanksgiving accomplishment is that with all that rich food, I lost a pound. Feeling super about that. Anyway, I guess I'll stumble my way through the rest of the evening, maybe reading a book. Tomorrow I must start reading the version of Mattie I plan to put on Kindle. And then I have to review and do a bit of rewriting on Skeleton in a Dead Space to put it on KIndle.
Meantime I'm reading Double Shot, a foodie cozy mystery by Diane Mott Davidson who is the star of that genre, in spite of all the other contestants. If anybody has read any of her novels about Goldy, the Colorado caterer, and also watched the Barefoot Contessa on TV, tell me if you don't think they're a perfect match! Ina Garten should play Goldy in a movie. Oh, bother, the fact that Garten is a chef and not an actress is a trivial thing!
Enough. I may eat chocolate.

A heady evening

Tonight I was inducted into the Fort Worth Publiuc Library's Texas Literary Hall of Fame, which means I joined the ranks with such people as John Graves, Katherine Ann Porter, Horton Foote, Shelby Hearon and others--pretty heady company. My children came--Colin, Jordan, and Jamie--Megan was delayed by a kindergartner's first ever school carnival and such things are priority, but she and her family are driving up as we speak. Lisa and Christian stayed home with four grandchildren, all of whom are now crowded into two beds in my family room. Maddie is one of the four, so she'll ride herd on them and make sure they go to sleep. Everyone has to be up and out the door by 8:40 for Jacob's soccer game. Not me. I'd sleep late but I'm sure young voices won't let me. It's such a joy to have them all here--Colin says he got a picture of all four of them in their bed, so I'm waiting for that.
Jordan got lots of pictures tonight at the dinner, but she hasn't shared them, so I have none to post--watch for them in future blogs. I was nervous, of course, about my half-page speech, but it went well, and I got a lot of compliments. I talked about growing up in Chicago and thinking Texas was a foreign land. Then my folks went to Corpus to visit my brother at the Naval Air Station and reported a lush and green tropical land. Later, my soon-to-be husband went to Turkey, Texas, and reported a barren, brown land with no vegetation. I was puzzled. My conclusion was, of course, that I found a land that was green sometimes and brown sometimes but more than that had a rich history and literature, out of which I built a career. I am really amazed by the honor, humbled and grateful.
The inductees with me were all good friends--and I was the only female. They were Jim Lee,sort of a grandfather of Texas literature in many ways, Bill Crider, mystery writer extradorinaire, Carlton Stowers, sports writer, true crimer author, and all around nice guy, Bob Ray Sanders, award-winning journalist with a career in TV, author of the text for one of TCU Press' best-ever photography books, and Jeff Guinn, former book editor of the Star-Telegram and the author of many books, one a winner of the TCU Texas Book Award. I keep using the word heady, but it was heady company to be in.
Best of all, my kids thought I did well on the talk, and that means everything to me. I'm not a native Texasn, but I've been here forty-five years, and I've written and published a whole lot about the state. It's my state, even though some call me an outsider.
I'm a happy camper tonight and going to bed tired.