I subscribe to “Southern Living” magazine. That subscription has followed me from address to address, and it’s the only home magazine I get. I love the gardening pieces, the decorating tips and the recipes. Lord! The recipes! When I’m following some of the recipes gleaned from “Southern Living,” I feel close to my Granny Vera – though she never once read a single issue herself.

 

And know this: that magazine ain’t cheap. It’s the heftiest subscription I’ve known. But it’s also my favorite periodical, so that price is happily (and sometimes reluctantly) paid.

 

Sometime last year or so, “Southern Living” added Rick Bragg to its roster of writers. He closes each issue, on the last page, with something called “Southern Journal by Rick Bragg.” As a derelict southerner, I had not read Mr. Bragg before. I am now making amends.

 

His post is the first thing I read each month. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes I cry. Even when my response falls somewhere in between laughter and tears, I am still left thinking about his writing. His “voice” is accessible and kind. His tone is that of some stray uncle, one you love but don’t see nearly enough. He doesn’t apologize for being southern. He owns his past, his family, his drawl. In short, he comes across as a wonderfully decent, southern human being. And that’s not too shabby.

 

Until now, I’ve only read Mr. Bragg’s monthly journal entries. But that is about to change. I’ve just gotten my very own copy of All Over But The Shoutin’, Rick Bragg’s memoir and most famous work to date. I’m super excited to start it.

 

 

And I’ll keep looking for each month’s issue of “Southern Living” as well, which I will open to the last page, first thing.

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