It is a sure bet, I am certain, that I am not the only wife with a husband who cares little about clothes. Like many wives, particularly Southern ones, I purchase his clothes and put together his wardrobe.
One of the dearest and oldest friends I have, had a close brush with death recently. He didn't just stand on the banks of the River Jordan and cast a longing eye to that other shore, he waded right into its sparkling, clear waters.
After Sunday dinner, while the others cleaned, talked or dealt with children, I sat down in a recliner matching the one that Rodney was in. I inhaled deeply and leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees.
On a Sunday morning, tucked into bed on the island of St. Simons, Ga., the place where I, at the age of 13, accepted the calling that had haunted me since I was 4 - that of becoming a writer - Tink brought me a copy of the New York Times and coffee loaded with cream.
It happened many years ago when my toddler niece, Nicole, grabbed a gold hoop earring dangling from my ear and gave it a good yank which ripped my pierced ear. When huge, heavy earrings made their debut in the 1990s, I wore the biggest, heaviest ones I could find.
We were eating lunch as the American Queen riverboat pulled out of port, having just returned from a morning-long excursion to the Battlefield of Vicksburg. It is even possible that we were in a mild disagreement over the Yankees and the Rebels when a nice couple approached.
It did not turn out as I intended. Somehow, Tink managed to turn it into what he, with gleeful satisfaction - that is the only way to say it with unvarnished truth though he now says otherwise - called "The Victory Tour."
The exact moment it happened was at a large round table in a ballroom of majestic gilt in a grand hotel. Tink and I found ourselves seated next to strangers, so we both plunged into jump-starting a conversation because we like the stories of others. We asked questions, expressed interest and tried to pull out information.
From the moment Tink visited the Mississippi Delta, he began to long for a seersucker suit. While men in big cities like Atlanta, Memphis, Birmingham and Nashville wear the lightweight, airy suits in the hot, humid Southern summers, it is the men of the Delta who favor them most and keep them trendy.