Observations from my Backpack

  A White Shirt The Charleston wind blew through my porch the day that Stan Foxworthy came to take a photograph of me for the book.  First and foremost, I do not like to sit still for a period of time, and for a photograph.  I would have loved to have had kids with me, or reading, or anything but sitting still and smiling. The white shirt.   That morning Stan called and said “see you shortly”.  I had on a white shirt, and standing by, my black turtleneck and a bright pink jacket.  Stan, a master of light, took one look at my porch area, felt the wind blowing through and said – “perfect!”.  “Sit he said”.  And forgetting that I had on this white shirt, well, we started. So let me explain further.  There is an old southern saying that often as we age,  we the daughter, begin to look like our mothers and take on their visual habits – ie what they would often wear! . So there I am with a white shirt on, smiling, the wind blowing through -and then I realized that my mother would be amused a