james david creel
"It reminded me of my 1970 Mercedes Sedan named Gertrude. Mama and I cruised around town making many fond memories in that beauty. It was buttercream on the outside with a chocolate brown top, and the interior was all original with a vintage AM/FM push button radio, premium leather seating, and power windows. Yes, we got all the attention that summer, even a few whistles and catcalls from adoring fans. Mama didn't mind feeling famous for a minute, and neither did I."
"I remember the feel of Mama's heartbeat and the creak of the rocking chair as she held me close, humming some old gospel hymn. When she held me close, I was home."
james david creel
columnist
"I was first introduced to Monopoly from the swivel bar stools of my family's kitchen, and it was there on Mama's yellow Formica bar that I learned about making deals, taking chances, and how one never wants to go directly to jail."
"...as the snowflakes whirled through the air, I pretended for a moment in time that I was in a snow globe, too."
"...as the snowflakes whirled through the air, I pretended for a moment in time that I was in a snow globe, too."
"The volunteer firemen put up giant tinsel angels on every street lamp, sure as Rudolph would be on TV before the season was over and as precise in their work as surgeons. The twinkling lights from the Western Auto store and neighboring houses hypnotized us through the frosted windows of our car, and Mama took the long way home, just for me."
"We grew up, grew older, but never grew apart. In fact, I suspect we are closer now than ever before. Friendships are so much like flowers in a garden. Some are annuals, but if you are lucky, the best ones are like old-fashioned roses that return year after year."
"He moved away before the first grade began, and my heart broke."
"I find the hardest thing for me is longing for home, not the stone house I grew up in or the physical place we all come home to, but instead a feeling that only the soul recognizes. My mama was my home. I can take her memory with me, but I can never quite go back there again."
"I wish I could go back, not to change anything, but maybe just to feel some things for a second time."
"I wish I could go back, not to change anything, but maybe just to feel some things for a second time."
James David Creel has been a syndicated newspaper columnist for over ten years pouring his heart into every story he writes. He borrows from his memories of growing up on the dirt roads of rural Mississippi where reveries of front porch swings, Coca-cola in real glass bottles, and barnyard chickens paint the way. You don't have to read very far into one of his stories to find a common thread weaved into the past that will warm your own heart. Whether he spends time writing from his home in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado or the banks of the Mississippi River in Vicksburg, he is sure to bring back a flood of memories that will resonate with you, like going home again.
"I still remember the hot rush of shame the day I was nominated for homecoming queen, the peculiar irony being that under different and better circumstances I would have made a fabulous homecoming queen, and loved it."
"I still remember the hot rush of shame the day I was nominated for homecoming queen, the peculiar irony being that under different and better circumstances I would have made a fabulous homecoming queen, and loved it."