“For all its quirkiness and sleepy southern pace, The Square of Second Creek had an almost Mediterranean look and feel to it—two- and three-story brick and lacework-balconied shops on all four sides, and a massive white-columned courthouse with a terra-cotta roof. The four short streets comprising The Square had been closed to traffic more than forty years ago, creating one of Mississippi’s earliest and most popular pedestrian malls, and the only blight on the ensemble was the empty storefronts caused by the infamous MegaMart.”
This is the premise of Robert Dalby’s new book Waltzing at the Piggly Wiggly. In the fictional fun town of Second Creek , Mississippi, big, bad MegaMart is providing lower prices and ruining small mom and pop establishments. The next victim, in this long line of heartaches, is the local Piggly Wiggly.
Mr. Choppy, fifth generation owner of the Second Creek, Piggly Wiggly, is in pain. With the way business has tapered off, he may not be able to keep the electric doors swinging. In his estimation, he may have three, possibly four, more months of operation. These are his thoughts as Laurie Lepanto enters the store.
Laurie Lepanto is a member of the Second Creek Nitwitts, an unofficial club, along the lines of a garden/civic club, which donate time and money to causes in the little town. Nothing like the uneasy fear a group of widowed ladies may evoke to promote change.
The madcap women involved in the Nitwitts are delightful. Laurie, president three years and running, doesn’t see an end to her reign. Being the youngest member, at fifty-five, she seems to be stuck with the most work. Other members include Denver Lee, an artist who draws outside, inside, and around the box; Novie, a perpetual traveler who annoys others with her fuzzy slideshows; and Renza, a woman who insist on wearing her foxes (heads and tails) to every occasion.
How will Mr. Choppy’s Piggly Wiggly survive? How will the Nitwitts save the day? What’s with the waltzing? Oops, I forgot to mention the recently widowed ballroom dancer, Powell Hampton.
Author Robert Dalby has written a fun fiction with laugh-out-loud potential. When speaking to him, he revealed his fictional town is a little Natchez, Port Gibson, and Oxford rolled into one, and the characters come straight from his childhood. Number two in the series, Kissing Babies at the Piggly Wiggly, will be available to readers in the fall.
This was a fun display to create!
The idea originated from a clothing display in Oxford, Mississippi. An employee had placed tissue-paper to appear as fire in a fireplace. The attractive look would be perfect for our flat foyer case. So, I googled mantle images and came across a federal style; which would be easy to draw with a yardstick.
My next thought, "What is a federal mantle without a wingback chair?"
Back to google images for fat wingback, which was harder to recreate in 3D. I blocked off major lines with a yardstick then free handed the fat look.
After all the work, it still lacked pop.
I thought the fire would be enough, but my boss suggested a cat! (Google image, black cat) I found one curled up in an attractive silhouette, which I free handed on black construction paper. While cutting it out, I fattened the look, then pinned it to the chair backwards. This way you can't see my pencil strokes.
Love this simple display w/ matching star/color scheme. My flash obscures the pink cover, which makes this display pop.
I got a little carried away with the greenery!
Super Bowl XLI is right around the corner, and I have the perfect book to whet your appetite. Michael Lewis, author of Moneyball, has written another sports expose titled The Blind Side. This time he aims his knowledgeable pen at the institution of football.
His first chapter retells the horrendous tackle Joe Theismann endured by Lawrence Taylor—an attack which ended his football career. The ABC game, a Monday Night Football production watched by 17.6 million viewers, featured the New York Giants and the Washington Redskins. It was, “the start of the second quarter, first and 10 at midfield,” when Theismann caught the “flea flicker” and set up for a pass.
Out of nowhere Taylor raised his arm to sack attack Theismann. The force wasn’t in Taylor’s arm but rather in his descending right thigh. As he came down for the tackle his thigh was pushed down into Thiesmann’s right leg, fracturing tibia and fibula.
Lawrence Taylor had made a name for himself as a fanatical quarterback destroyer. Apparently, Taylor had a mild case of claustrophobia and preferred to maneuver away from the pack. This being, he would not lower himself into a set position when in the line of scrimmage. Once the ball was snapped, he preferred to move around the mass and be the guy closer to the top of any tackle.
Just by playing with his natural fear he became successful at “sacking the quarterback.” Time-after-time he went around the line and circled back to find the quarterback unprotected. He, in effect, hit the man from his blind side and created a new football strategy.
This new strategy requires a heavy, nimble man or waltzing elephant to be effective. It is a unique human that possesses this mixture, weight and grace—so unique, that the NFL is willing to pay big money for the specimen. The left tackle, Taylor’s position, is the second highest paid player, other than the quarterback.
Imagine you are a football scout and you have just seen an incredible sight, a sophomore at Briarcrest Christian School, bulky yet nimble, making three pointers on the Memphis basketball court. This is how Michael Oher first appeared to scout Tom Lemming, believing he had just witnessed the next Orlando Pace.
The next year, Lemming “ranked him [Oher] as the #1 offensive line prospect” in the country. Follow Oher’s evolution, currently playing at Ole Miss, from gentle giant to mean machine in this very entertaining book.
There were tiny revelations that had Leigh Anne upset for days, for what they implied about his (Michael Oher's) childhood. She took Michael with her and Sean Junior to a Barnes & Noble. As they walked through the store, Sean Junior spotted Where the Wild Things Are and said, "Look, Mom, you used to read that to me when I was little." To which Michael replied, in the most detached tone, "I've never had anyone read me a book." p78
This passage from The Blind Side by Michael Lewis pulls at my maternal instincts. I just want to run out in the street and grab some unsuspecting child and read to him/her!
Classic Challenge #1
Read Billy Budd on the plane to Seattle this past Thursday as part of the Classic Challenge. Unfortunately, I did not read the preferred edited edition. I read the Freeman/Treeman version.
Billy Budd was published in 1924, some 33 years after Melville's death. Many drafts were found in his papers while preparing for a 1920 Melville revival. One draft is said to be the final novella. I would disagree.
The book is torn. It lacks focus on theme or allegory. It seems Melville was playing with good and evil/Jesus and the Devil/straight and gay themes; yet, never really establishing a major and minor consistency.
Unlike Moby Dick, we hardly learn any characterization from conversation. In Budd we are given description, as if notes, to the different characters' moral values and motivations.
Speaking of notes, a majority of the paragraphs feel like notes. Melville waxes eloquent passages then says something like, "To return." What? I missed that. Go back and reread. Does he mean, enter stage left?
I just find it hard to accept this work as complete. I think Melville was working to develop this novella into a full blown novel. I do NOT agree with those that claim this is his finest work. My money is on Moby.
Regrets, I've had a few...
I've made a huge, costly mistake; however, this is my normal learning curve. I now know that Midwinter is more meetings than programs. One might have warned me--remember the hard head--but I still would need to experience it myself.
This is not to say Midwinter is not valuable to those ALA orbiting members. Those of us who want to be involved and just haven't been shot down, yet. The two meetings I attended were quite open to non-committee members' input. Those meetings being, RUSA CODES, Readers Advisory, 8am Saturday and LITA, Internet Resources and Services Interest Group, 10am Saturday.
I did manage to find a program on Saturday; Google Presents: Tales, Tips and Tools for Libraries was informative and fun. My director will be giving a presentation to faculty and staff involving Google; which I will be able to contribute to. We already have an English department head who is quite efficient with Google Book Search and Google Scholar.
I found this great puzzle on the web 
Yes, I know, tacky, but I wanted to introduce a new blog out there that deals with trailers--book trailers--at Book Trailerpark. Publishers like Warner Books and Bewrite Books are producing teasers for the reading public; although, we have yet to see one of these ads on Mississippi TV.
When I pass a bookshelf, I like to pick out a book from it and thumb through it. When I see a newspaper on the couch, I like to sit down with it. When the mail arrives, I like to rip it open. Reading is one of the main things I do. Reading is everything. Reading makes me feel I’ve accomplished something, learned something, become a better person. Reading makes me smarter. Reading gives me something to talk about later on. Reading is the unbelievably healthy way my attention deficit disorder medicates itself. Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it’s a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it’s a way of making contact with someone else’s imagination after a day that’s all too real. Reading is grist. Reading is bliss. But my ability to pick something up and read it—which has gone unchecked all my life up until now—is now entirely dependent on the whereabouts of my reading glasses. ~ Nora EphronThis exert from I Feel Bad about My Neck: and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman.
Wilma Dykeman
