Mary Morony, Southern Fried Fiction

                           Photo by Sarah Cramer

Segregated schools and water fountains along with “whites only” restaurants and movie theaters were the norm when I was growing up. I remember the hurled epithets and smashed windows of a society boiling in hatred.

I was one of six kids and had four of my own. As if that didn’t provide sufficient material about family chaos, at the age of forty-something, with a high school daughter and a four-year-old girl still at home, I decided to get a college degree. I earned, and I do mean earned, a B.A. in English with honors at the University of Virginia. My concentration was creative writing.

More recently I pursued additional studies under the tutelage of my seven-year-old granddaughter. Her refresher course in childhood perspective was invaluable in writing this series of books, as are many experience throughout my life.

I was born and raised in Charlottesville, Virginia by my family’s black maid. She taught me love and acceptance with warm, loving humor and unending patience.  The relationship I was privileged to experience taught me much about the human heart and the redemptive power of love, especially between races.