Oh, Reba of the Redbird

I just talked to the nicest lady from Boston. Once every two or three months I talk to someone who is truly sweet, usually on the weird side. She said she did ballroom dancing competitions with her brother near the city I live in, and she won the state competition. We talked about travelling through the midwest with east coast accents (although she has an accent and I don't), and about her nice uncle who gives her money. She told me to marry rich.

Her address was Redbird lane, which reminded me of one of my favorite books (I read constantly). Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All, by Allan Gurganus. This book is truly a masterpiece, you get lost in it. I have read thousands of books (yes, thousands, on average 3-5 a week) and this might just be my favorite. One of the characters in the book (a liberated slave in turn-of-the-century North Carolina) worships a goddess called Reba, who has something to do with red birds. Claiming to remember her native Africa, though she came to the states as an infant, the character keeps this as her religion, amalgamated with various southern baptist moral constructs. "Reba, Reba of the redbird" she says as she waves a bright red feather. I love birds with an overarching passion. Seriously. So this redbird thing appeals to me. So does the goddess aspect, but more than that it is the bird.