Life Notice
for
Children's Author Deborah Wiles
page 3 -- reflections....

Through all those childhood moves, Mississippi was home base. Deborah spent countless summer days in Louin, Mississippi, watching the socks spin at the washerteria, visiting Mr. Jeff Simmons's grocery for lemon drops, a ten-ounce Coca-Cola, and a bit of conversation, plunking on the old upright piano in the unlocked Methodist church (ask her to play a hymn! Or not.), and wandering the cemetery, hanging out with long-gone kin (EACH LITTLE BIRD THAT SINGS).

It was in Mississippi that Deborah learned to love the earth from her Aunt Mitt (ONE WIDE SKY) who grew the world's most beautiful zinnias.

It was in Mississippi that Deborah helped shell butterbeans with her great-grandmother, Nannie, and tasted the delicacies of a southern summer kitchen: creamed corn and green beans fresh from the garden (LOVE, RUBY LAVENDER), fried catfish and hushpuppies, sweet tea, coconut cake made from scratch, and hand-cranked vanilla ice cream.

It was in Mississippi that cousin Bubba (really) stepped on a nail while staging a play with the cousins in the old high school auditorium. It was in Mississippi that the pool closed in 1964 to "everybody under the sun, no matter what color." (FREEDOM SUMMER)

A note from Comfort again: There's more, as Deborah is longwinded, but these pages are still under construction so you might check back later if you're not already tired of reading about Deborah Wiles's scintillating life. (It's rather boring, to me, but then, I'm just the interviewer and I'm getting paid a lifetime supply of Tom's Peanuts, RC Colas, and Moon Pies.) Particularly there are a bunch of pictures I've got to figure out where to stick. Until then, here are a few fast facts, below, about Deborah Wiles today.

Fast Facts for Today about Deborah Wiles:

Deborah has four kids -- Alisa, Jason, Zachary, and Hannah --

and two grandkids -- (Hey, Olivia and Logan!)

She is painting her study lavender, right this minute. (She's a slow painter.)

She has a cat named Gus. Her sweet (oooold) dog, Sandy, died last year.

She loves to picnic in cemeteries.

Her entire living room is her study. Her desk is an old 8-foot door on metal legs.

She's a vegeterian. Yes, she is. Really. No matter what you've seen.

She has lived in Atlanta since June 2004. She hardly ever gets lost driving around Atlanta anymore. She avoids I-285 (the Ring Of No Hope) at all costs. (Here is a look at Spaghetti Junction, where I-285 and I-85 meet, which is 4 miles from Deborah's house -- see what she means?)

She still misses Maryland a lot sometimes. Sniff, sniff. But she also loves Atlanta.

She is waaaaaay behind on answering her mail, but she's working on it. Hard. She'll get caught up soon. She hopes.