Speaking of My Fifteen Minutes

So I get an email from Dad yesterday morning telling me I'm on the front page of the B section of The Charlotte Observer and that means I'm famous. The first thing I feel is panic. As in holy smokes, have I been photographed running a red light again? Are they putting those grainy pictures in the paper now?

Upon reflection, I figure it couldn't be anything worse than me in my earlier mentioned neon t-shirt and wild hair waiting in line to vote. I somehow miss the "Section B" part of his email and race to a PDF of the front page. I'm relieved to find no shots of me in my night gown with the caption Tax Offender or Violator. I'm nowhere so now I think Dad is just messing with me.

Later a friend emails the article and all is revealed. No pictures and the article's not even about me. It's about my wonderful friend Michael Lackey who made a movie "Burnout: The Resurrection of a Small Southern Town." If you don't know what a Burnout is, you can see one here.

(He and I in Colorado for the Telluride Film Festival a few years back.)

I was a go-fer for this movie which is about the Oakboro Cruise-in and Burnout. I ran around getting releases signed by people who were about to burn up their tires. We had a great big ole time in Oakboro. A yet to be famous Kelly Pickler even sings a little in the film.

The article does mention that his next film project is called "Laura and Lucile" and is about about me and my grandma.

Those of you who don't personally know my 97-year old Grandmother shouldn't be mislead by the picture at right. She is not the whimsical vamp this photo might lead you to believe, nor does she like dogs. This is a very practical woman who moved herself into a rest home over ten years ago because she thought it was time. Now she says "if I'd known I was gonna live this long, I never would've moved in here. " She lives in Harmony, NC. I moved into her farmhouse a few years ago which is a mile from the retirement home. Since I was now a local call, I got many an inspiring answering machine message. A recurring one was "Lar, turn on Opry--she's talking bout women your age and still looking for a man." I stayed a year.

I've told stories about my grandmother all of my life, like the time she took my brother Johnny to see Mr. Pearson's dead body at the funeral home because she thought six was old enough to handle a viewing. My mother almost had to be sedated. Before I moved to Harmony, I had no idea she would figure so heavily in my writing. She's practically the main character.

Sometimes, at my readings, I even like to imitate her answering machine messages. The picture to the left is much more representative of her general spirit. She means business.

She and her farm have been a source of consistency and stability for my life. That's a gift for someone like me who's known for being neither stable nor consistent. I can hardly bring myself to think about this, but Grandma is slowing down a lot. She's in a wheelchair since last Christmas.

She's always been the record-keeper of our family, but now, she has trouble with names. Don't get me wrong, she might not remember your name, but she knows exactly who you are and everything she's ever known about you. Right down to the time, twenty years ago, when you were late to her luncheon because you were driving while doing the crossword puzzle instead of looking for her exit on I-77.

The movie is slow going, but one day next year, it will all be done. Maybe you all can help when we film the part where I tell about Grandma on stage. We'll need an audience.

So Dad was kidding. I'm not famous--but I did get a mention.

This is Grandma's farm in Harmony. The picture of Judge, my Boston Terrier, that's always at the top of the blog was shot in her pasture. The one below is the hayfield.