The other day, quite by chance, I met a man named Connor from Mississippi. We got to talking and I mentioned the road trip along the Southern Literary Trail that Paul and I took last summer. Eudora Welty’s home in Jackson had been a highlight.
It turns out that Connor’s grandfather, a man with the novel-worthy name of Holden Vann “Skeet” Kincannon, once worked with William Faulkner in the Oxford, Mississippi Post Office.One of Skeet’s favorite, oft-told tales on Mr. Faulkner involved his parting words on the day he quit. The illustrious author apparently said, “All my life I’ll be at the beck and call of somebody. But never again will I be at the beck and call of any son of a bitch with 2 cents to buy a stamp.”
I wonder if poor old Bill rotated in his tomb when, last month, I was fussin’ about the 3-cent price hike on a postcard.
If so, I'm real sorry about that, Mr. Faulkner.
No comments:
Post a Comment