The Diary - May 4
I talked on the phone with a 96-year-old friend yesterday whom I had not spoken to in a quite a while. Miss J, the personification of Southern graciousness, lives in Macon, Georgia. I met her when the Catholic-inspired homeless services charity I led worked with her Cooperative Baptist congregation and other faith communities to create a day center for homeless and very low-income men and women in Macon. Our different religious affiliations were always a source of mutual learning and interest.
At the start of our conversation, she apologized for her uneven, scratchy, and occasionally faltering voice. “I’ve had a stroke,” she said. “But I’m getting better.” I told her not to worry about her voice. “You just sound like a Baptist who has had a few drinks,” I teased. “Well, I have been known to do that,” she shot back.
I asked her if she was still reading. She said yes. I asked if she had read “The Correspondent” by Virginia Evans. She had and enjoyed it but told me there was another book she loved even more: “Theo of Golden” by Allen Levi. Those who have been to River City Reading Room or have spent time on this website know that I am a great fan of the book as well.
Miss J was so moved that she wrote Mr. Levi telling him how much the book meant to her. She made sure she was in the audience when Mr. Levi came to Macon for a reading. When Mr. Levi began to speak, he prefaced his remarks by saying he wanted to recognize two people. One was Miss J. He asked if she was in the audience. He then explained to the crowd how her letter touched him and that he would forever keep it among his books. He called Miss J to the front of the room and gave her a hug. “Even kissed me on the lips!” Miss J excitedly told me. It was an evening Miss J will not forget.
Books are magical. The worlds they create within their covers entertain, transport, frighten, amuse, educate, warn, and inspire us. Equally important are the connections they build between readers and, if we are especially lucky, between reader and writer.