Living in my families shotgun shack on the water allowed me some time to pursue writing and along the way I met some characters.  There was the man who prided himself on being the unofficial Mayor of Bon Secour, the little fishing village where our property was located.  Around me, I was surrounded by some mansions which looked as if they belonged on the set of “Gone With the Wind.”  One morning, I walked down to the pier to the fish market and made a phone call on the payphone to New York City.  I called the credit department of Lord & Taylor to give them my new address to finish paying off my credit card.  I had to repeat my location several times.  Finally, he asked me about Bon Secour.  When I told him that I was using the pay phone at the end of the pier overlooking shrimp boats, a beautiful blue cloudless sky, absolute stillness and a Southern mansion within my eye view.  There was a long pause and then he said, “I’m in New York City across from a Greek coffee shop and within my sight are apartment buildings.  All is concrete around me.”  That spoke volumes to me:  allegiance to the Deep South, reluctance to move farther North than the Mason County Dixie line, memories of the Civil War floated away in a perfectly formed mouth movement of “Oh” to the customer service representative holding on the other end.  I get it!

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