Author's Note: I am often asked about the process of gathering my family's stories. Particularly, people want to know if they have signed off on my telling each of the stories. When I tell them that my family was in agreement about my telling our tales, my mom nudges me and kiddingly (I think) says, "All but one." Duly noted, Mom. This is that story.

We called my mom Mama until we went away to college and got all sophisticated; then, she became Mom. She never really acted very sophisticated, though. After all, she was from out in the country near North Carrollton. She didn’t have to go far to get above her raisin’. There was one glaring exception, however. Rasslin’ (not to be confused with wrestling—like collegiate or Olympic wrestling) was waaaaayyy below...

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