Lewis Grizzard

I fell in love with Lewis Grizzard the first time I saw his name in print. Momma foretold it. She gave me his book, "Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You" when I was having my last baby with whom she hoped would be my last husband. Momma thoughtfully exclaimed, "I know that you will just love him, he has been married as many times as you." Momma always had a way with words. Even though I had been reading his columns in the Atlanta Journal Constitution long before, the book sealed the deal. I couldn't wait to see what he wrote next. He made me laugh every time I read anything he wrote.

My friends and I laughed all the way back home from Athens the first time we heard Grizzard tell the story about Uga on the football field taking care of some personal hygiene matters and Bubba admiring the dog's, let's say flexibility. I don't remember the year, who Georgia played, nor the outcome of the game but I will always remember Lewis' advice to Bubba, "That dog will bite you".

Grizzard made me laugh for years. Then he made me cry. It seemed like a pig valve would be well suited for him and his humor. He got lots of miles out of joking about his new affectation to sunshine and mud. He married, had a child in his life, life seemed good for Lewis. Then he up and died. It was the first time I ever cried at the news of a writer's death. Even though I never got around to marrying him, or meeting him for that matter, I miss his humor, his slant on life, and his childhood memories. Lewis, if you are out there, I want you to know that you inspired me to write. I know that it took thirty years to get my stories on paper but I have been busy. I want you to know that you were and are still my inspiration. Thank goodness we never met or we might have had to cross your name out of the family bible.