“Who do you thank you are, the Quane of Anglund?” That’s what Grace Marie’s father used to say to her whenever he thought she was getting out of her place. In her fifties now, Grace Marie is a college professor living in a beach town in California. When she gets a phone call telling her that her father is dead, she is glad. She hopes her return to Arkansas for his funeral will be her “last trip home.”
As a young girl Grace Marie struggled to escape from poverty, her father’s lecherous, controlling grip, and a husband in the Klan. Determined to get an education, she clawed her way to a comfortable life and a home with indoor toilets―but her most unexpected struggle turned out to be survivor’s guilt, so she kept returning home to “fix” her family and the sharecropper shack. After her father’s funeral, Grace Marie burns down the family home―only to discover that she has unexpected ties to both the land and the people in her community. She realizes she will never have a “last trip home.”
This website is meant to advertise my mem-novel, Last Trip Home, now available and published by She Writes Press. I do want people to buy my book to replenish what I’ve spent on publishing it, but I don’t really want people I know to read it. Also, since I couldn’t sell my ass to a horny sailor if I were 30 years younger, I have serious doubts about my selling the book (or my ass) here. I am more likely to repel readers than to attract them. Even so, as I get closer than not to 80 years old, I am determined to write about what interests me—aging and whining about aging—no politics or intellectual stuff. My first blog in July, 2017, about my long-held fear of getting Alzheimer’s disease was a sample of what to expect (Warning: five variations of the word “fuck”).