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Miz Jones

Miz Jones Doris Davenport Appalachian Heritage, Volume 33, Number 3, Summer 2005, pp. 80-81 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2005.0062 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/434672/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 19:34 GMT from JHU Libraries Miz Jones Lived at the top of the hill, at 122 Soque Street, across from Mr. Dock 'nem and sideways from Shady Grove Baptist Church. She had a tiny one room wooden store in the yard next to her house, Miz Jones did. So old, she was see- through light beige. So skinny, could see blue veins and tiny bones through her skin. She was blind, but she had real good hearing. She'd holler, "Who is that?" and we had to answer. Then, she would ask "What's your name? Whose child is you?" After that, your parents, grandparents, whoever and we had to answer, and we could be held an hour or more. We'd try to sneak by, but she could smell us, seemed like. In black ankle length skirts and thick black sweaters, no matter the weather; she smelled old and sweet like the vanilla creme cookies she sold; she sat on her porch and 80 listened http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
2692-9244
eISSN
2692-9287

Abstract

Doris Davenport Appalachian Heritage, Volume 33, Number 3, Summer 2005, pp. 80-81 (Article) Published by The University of North Carolina Press DOI: https://doi.org/10.1353/aph.2005.0062 For additional information about this article https://muse.jhu.edu/article/434672/summary Access provided at 19 Feb 2020 19:34 GMT from JHU Libraries Miz Jones Lived at the top of the hill, at 122 Soque Street, across from Mr. Dock 'nem and sideways from Shady Grove Baptist Church. She had a tiny one room wooden store in the yard next to her house, Miz Jones did. So old, she was see- through light beige. So skinny, could see blue veins and tiny bones through her skin. She was blind, but she had real good hearing. She'd holler, "Who is that?" and we had to answer. Then, she would ask "What's your name? Whose child is you?" After that, your parents, grandparents, whoever and we had to answer, and we could be held an hour or more. We'd try to sneak by, but she could smell us, seemed like. In black ankle length skirts and thick black sweaters, no matter the weather; she smelled old and sweet like the vanilla creme cookies she sold; she sat on her porch and 80 listened

Journal

Appalachian ReviewUniversity of North Carolina Press

Published: Jan 8, 2014

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