In his newest novel, Be Mine, Richard Ford writes what sounds like a memoir as Frank Bascombe recounts a car trip with his son Paul. At 47, Paul has been diagnosed with ALS, called “Al’s” in their surprisingly light conversation. Seventy-four-year-old Frank has become the caretaker, though he is frequently interrupted with advice by phone from Paul’s sister Clarice who differs with her father’s decisions.

The first road trip for Peter, as he publicized Becoming Ezra Jack Keats with me, held both glitches and connections. My sister Beth arranged for events near her new home in Atlanta and invited our other two sisters, Gwyn and Ruth, to join us. There would be a signing at Read It Again Book Store, a visit with residents in her new digs, and a meeting with her book club that had chosen my book for their June read.

To be honest, I have never been homeless – just hometown-less. I grew up the daughter of a country preacher and then married a guy who spent a career in the military. When someone asks about where I come from, my first reaction is usually to stutter. A decision we made more than two decades ago has changed that.

The seasoning of magical realism begins in the first chapter of Wishing Season by Anica Mrose Rissi as Lily gets off the school bus ten minutes past the usual time. Her body language when she waves at no friends and braces herself as she heads to her front door is observed and commented on by two watchful birds. One says she’ll be all right; the second one wonders.

Got my bag, got my reservation
Spent each dime I could afford
Like a child in wild anticipation
Long to hear that, “All aboard!"

To be honest, though I am borrowing some lyrics from the old Doris Day song, “Sentimental Journey,” the idea is only a partial fit. I’ll start with that part.

Mississippi’s favorite editorial cartoonist, Marshall Ramsey, gave advice for graduates this year. “Never chase trophies or honors. Fall in love with the work instead. Life is work. . . Stop saying you ‘have to do something.’ Start saying ‘I get to do something’.”

Hattiesburg Mayor Toby Barker got my attention with his request on the news. In a bit of background, in case you are not from here, the University of Southern Mississippi (USM) Golden Eagles are hosting the Super Regional baseball games as they play Tennessee this weekend after winning the Auburn Regional last week.

The Museum of Lost and Found by Leila Sales begins with a lost friendship that drifted away without fanfare and a found abandoned museum that has signs saying POSTED: NO TRESPASSING and DEMOLITION PENDING.

When Owen asked me the question, I immediately thought of the old saying, “What goes around, comes around.” Coming around has taken a little while, but I think it was inevitable.

The reader knows immediately that Penelope Keeling has a mind of her own when The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher begins with her ignoring her doctor’s advice and checking herself out of the hospital against doctor’s orders. Her life story is told from her beginnings with unconventional parents to the wrangling now with three adult children, each with a mind and personality of their own.

I remember Mama with a bit of a twinkle in her eye when I was growing up as she listened to old folks who talk about “young folks today” and “when I was growing up.” She would tell us later that there was a saying she got from her grandmother that fit the occasion.

Sometimes a typical picture book may mean even more to the grandparent who is reading the story than to its projected audience. Love in the Library by Maggie Takuda-Hall does exactly that.

There are some advantages of being the firstborn that have come into play as we approach this weekend’s celebration of Mother’s Day. As far as we know, there is only one portrait ever taken of Mama as a baby. It’s in splotchy shape, but I have it in the photographic folder that studios used at that time.

I never seem to run out of new places to find good books. As a regular reader of “Level Up Your Writing Life” in Writer’s Digest, I noticed that the column writer Sharon Stone also wrote books under a pseudonym as Jess Montgomery. Of course, I wondered if she could write a good story as well as give good advice, and Oak Grove Public Library had a copy of The Widows.

We’ve shared our lodgings with a Wren family for the four springs we have lived at what I call “The Ranch.” I’ve thought of ourselves as the landlords as we have occupied the guest house on these eight acres with the Wrens having residence in their nest atop the inside carport post.

By the time I have reached page 8 of Flipping Forward Twisting Backward by Alma Fullerton, I knew which grandson would receive this book for his birthday. Claire shares his problem of letters in words that float, blur, and get all mixed up, but she also shares his advantage of having places in life to excel.

Who would have thought that I could get this far into poetry month without a mention of it? Let’s just say there have been a few things going on here even while poetry month has occupied a space in the corner of my mind. In case I should forget, there is always my poet friend Irene Latham who sends a post card reminder.

After the festival’s over comes a week of recovery. The Fay B. Kaigler Children’s Book Festival has been a highlight of every year for me since 2002 until it was cruelly interrupted by the coronavirus. This year it was back, entailing leaving home about 8:30 AM and returning about 9:30 PM. That was last week. This week was recuperation and relishing the memories.

Chelsea Sedoti writes a mesmerizing young adult mystery in Tell Me What Really Happened. Part of the intrigue is her use of only the voices of the four friends of Maylee, the murder victim, as they answer interrogation questions in solitary first person police interviews.

Given that I have only had one signing for my book, feel free to question my expertise as I give hints about how to have an enjoyable one. Nonetheless, I go right ahead with my suggestions.