Her Texas: Story Image, Poem & Song Edited by Donna Walker-Nixon, Cassy Burleson, Rachel Crawford & Ashley Palmer

We round out the first Women Writers Month on “Likely Stories” with a wide-ranging and interesting collection of writings in multiple genres.  Creative non-fiction leads off, followed by song, poetry, fiction and an interesting section on “Lagniappe: An Editorial Extrusion.”  A lagniappe is a small gift given to a customer by a merchant following a purchase, for example, a thirteenth donut when someone purchases twelve.  Three of the editors contributed to this section.  Rachel Crawford begins with “First Names,” an especially interesting short story.  Cassy Burleson adds five fine poems, and novelist Donna Walker-Nixon contributes an excellent short story, “Johnny Messy Skin.”

This volume, published in 2015 contains so many impressive works, I hardly know where to begin to offer samples, as I usually do.  Among the creative non-fiction pieces, I especially liked Betty Wiesepape’s interesting and detailed story of a marriage in the beginning of the twentieth century.  Wiesepape writes, “Ransom Filmore Holland took Vera Kate Bruner to be the mother of his five children on December 24, 1913.  It was not the kind of wedding young women dream about.  No courtship, no matching gold bands, no long white wedding dress – only a hurried buggy ride to purchase a marriage license and stand before a justice of the peace before the Smith County courthouse closed for the Christmas holiday” (55).  Santa never delivered a wedding present quite like he did that day.

Amanda Pearcy wrote four songs, and I especially appreciated “Make Me a Pallet on the Floor.” Perry wrote, “Mama prepare, prepare a room for me. / Mama make me a pallet on the floor to sleep / I’m comin’ home to you / I’m comin’ home to you / I ain’t gonna go on like this no more // Papa bring your mean, bring your mean on me / Papa ain’t no mean I ain’t known or seen / I’m comin’ home to you / I’m comin’ home to you / Like the Prodigal Son, I’m comin’ home” (179).  Like many of the works in this collection, women’s anguish, hope, fears, and joy are expressed with words of truth and emotion.

The collection of poetry contain a number of well-known writers.  Anne McCrady has a reputation in Texas, and someday, I believe her value as a poet will expand well-beyond the Lone Star State.  In “camp Song,” she wrote, “In the pale light / of a canvas tent dawn, / cicadas kazoo / the last verses of their camp song, / that tinnitus of summer. / Hidden in beds of thin grass, / crickets whistle / their own tinny hymn / and out by the pond, / amorous tree frogs blurt / wet advances too late for now / for evening love” (259).  A poet, who can write such a tender, pleasing poetry, full of vivid images, certainly deserves a wider audience.

The fiction selection also presented some difficult choices for a favorite, but since I love – and play – word games, I am going to go with Laurie Champion’s neat and compact little slice of life story, “I’m Her(e).”  A couple meet up in a motel room and duel with pronouns.  Champion writes, “We laughed a lot.  ‘Knock-knock,’ you said one morning when you heard my knock at your hotel door. // ‘Who’s there?’ I asked. //’It’s I’, you said.  You cracked open the door. // ‘Yeah,’ I said.  ‘It’s me.’  You told me I should keep my pronouns straight, said something about subjects and objects and explained the difference between the use of me and I, her and she.  I listened to you, watched you smirk.  I stood outside the room and waited for you to open the door wider, invite me in.  You finished talking, paused, and looked at me, gazed at me as though sizing me up.  Not quite sure what to say, I finally twisted one corner of my mouth into a faint smile and said, ‘It’s you,’ I said.  ‘I’m here.’ // ‘This is he,’ you said. // ‘I’m hemmed,’ I said.  I rolled my eyes and wondered why I told these stupid jokes, played dumb word games.  Perhaps it was part of our agreement.  Our unspoken promise to each other not to take things seriously, or too seriously, as you once put it” (316).  Seems to me these two have a case of the nerves, and from the mention of another woman, I am betting this is a tale with a tryst. 

Interspersed among the writing are many interesting black and white photos of children, adults, and flowers, portraits and landscapes.  Also included are a number of photos of drawings and paintings.  These images make wonderful decorative elements among the words.

While Her Texas: Story, Image, Poem, & Song Edited by Donna Walker-Nixon, Cassy Burleson, Rachel Crawford, & Ashley Palmer does have some pieces less equal than others, it most certainly would make a wonderful gift to the reader in your life.  This celebration of woman belongs on every reader’s book shelf.  It has plenty of writing to justify 5 Stars.

--Chiron, 3/15/15

Holy Ghost Girl by Donna M. Johnson

A couple of months ago, I received a call from Donna Johnson, who identified herself as a former student of my college. She told me she had written a memoir of her life growing up on the “sawdust circuit,” otherwise known as the world of tent revivals. It didn’t seem like something I would be interested in, but she offered to send me a copy of the book. She also asked if she could speak to my creative writing class. I am always happy to accommodate this request, because writers invariably tell my students the same things I tell them about reading, writing, persistence, and discipline.

When, I got Holy Ghost Girl, I was still skeptical, but publication by a division of Penguin must mean something. So, I called her back and made arrangements for her to speak to my class.

Whew! Am I glad I did not let these two opportunities slip by me. First of all, Donna did a terrific job – not only in my class, but also at a reading at the local Barnes & Noble a couple of days later.

When we agreed on a date and time, I decided I should at least begin to read the book. Once I started, I could hardly put it down.

Tent revivals encompass a world entirely off my radar. I knew about them in a vague sort of way – mostly from television. But Johnson has created a vivid world of the showmanship, the greed, the shameless begging, and obviously faked “miracle cures.”

Donna tells the story through her eyes as a young child. She acknowledges help with some of the memories from her sister and mother and some scholarly sources, but the truth of her story pours off every page. I never doubted a word of her tale for even a moment.

The rationalizations, the excuses, the canard “It’s all part of God’s plan,” and the ubiquitous “God told me (fill in the blank).” Needless to say I was appalled at the pandering for the last dollars and coins of people living on the edge. Most of the revivals seem to have taken place in the rural south, including Texas. David Terrell is still active, and his website lists a number of revivals.

The real tragedy of the story involves the effect this life had on Donna and her brother and sisters. CPS would be all over Donna’s mother, Carolyn Johnson for abandonment of her children in the care of near-strangers. Donna captures the terror of every move, every all-night drive to the next revival site, every time the children watched their mother drive away for an unknown destination for unknown length of time.

Donna has her doubts, but somehow she cannot turn completely away. Of course the child is awestruck by the charismatic preacher, but the adult has questions. She writes, “Doubt is a lot like faith; a mustard seed’s worth changes everything. Away from the tent, the questions kept coming. How can Brother Terrell claim to be without sin? Why doesn’t it matter that he is committing adultery and lying? [italics Johnson’s] .(256) and “”Why did Brother Terrell and my family have so much stuff, when Jesus said to sell everything and give it to the poor? Why had an omnipotent God let that child die?” (257). Why indeed?

As Lord Acton wrote, “Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely,” so inevitably, the mansions, the Mercedes, the planes, the fast living, all consumed David Terrell, and, inevitably, the tax man cometh. Eventually, Terrell was convicted and spent a few measly years in prison for the millions he bilked off of poor, gullible people who desperately wanted to believe a better life awaited them in the beyond.

An absorbing story, and I recommend it highly. 5 stars

--Chiron, 11/17/11