Harold---The Loud Memory

First ( and close to the last) time I colored my hair was while I was in summer school. [I spent several college summers anywhere but at home, come to think of it] Anyway. I have no idea what my hair really looked like, but within minutes of drying it, I was bouncing out into the bright summer light just in time for Harold to see it. He stopped his Volkswagen on its nose, bounded over to me, and screeched for the entirety of Jefferson County: "My Gawd! It's Whore of Babylon Red!"

Sunday Drives

We used to take Sunday drives, my mother, her mother and I (and later my baby brother grew to challenge me for the post of Navigator). While the men in their respective houses napped, we explored the nearby world and took possession of byways renaming them "that road with the cedars and goats" or "out by the cider stand" and "where was that lake up Germantown Hill?". We drove by whim from the beginning to the end. "Let's take a drive" began it, usually my mother, the only driver in the group. From there direction was anyone's choice, mine more often than not since my grandmother seemed content with the ride and whatever she and Mama talked about. Very early I learned to vary the directions of my turns to avoid wandering in circles. That was my only rule.