The Colonel led all the cheers. Cornbread!" he screamed. CHICKEN!" the crowd responded. Rice!" PEAS!" And then, all together: "WE GOT HIGHER SATs." Hip Hip Hip Hooray!" the Colonel cried. YOU'LL BE WORKIN' FOR US SOMEDAY!

She was up and down—from fire and brimstone to smoke and ashes.

No headboards were broken.

I am concussed," I announced, entirely sure of my self-diagnosis.

I don't think you're dying," I said. "I think you've just got a touch of cancer. He smiled. Gallows humor.

I hope we get pulled over, he says. I'd like to see how the cop responds to a black man wearing a Confederate T-shirt over a black dress.

It's not life or death, the labyrinth. Suffering. Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you.