An excerpt from the novel “How I Wonder”
The day before the ceremony, Aunt Margie swept into the room with enough flair, panache, and elegance to make Sarah Jessica Parker nod in professional respect. Everything Aunt Margie wears must flow—the more fabric the better. And then there are the hats. Huge hats, floppy hats, brightly colored hats—no pill box, Juliet, cloche, or beret would ever be placed on her flamboyant head for fear of Aunt Margie ripping them off in a fit of sheer disgust.
Aunt Margie was one of those people who kisses everyone, yet her lips never actually touch anyone; but somehow you feel vaguely slobbered over when she plants one of her faux-kisses in the vicinity of your cheeks. You see, unlike so many women who use the faux-kiss to approximate some kind of fondness, Aunt Margie’s fondness is real and palpable even without her lips having to touch anyone’s cheek. Aunt Margie lives large and loves even larger.
We were almost done with the little rehearsal when Aunt Margie made her nearly operatic entrance. Everything stopped. Uncle Bob just waited as she swept through the room, hugging and faux-kissing everyone, including two caterers who just happened to be innocently setting up for the reception.
“Aren’t you just cute as piss,” she raved as she hugged one of them.
In all honesty, he was.
“Oh, don’t let me stop you” she said to Uncle Bob. “Please carry on. I’ll just make myself invisible.”
No one believed that.
Uncle Bob, having only just met Aunt Margie, still sensed the urgency of finishing up the rehearsal before Aunt Margie had the opportunity to interject suggestions, or in her eyes, improvement.
Aunt Margie had several surprises for the Bennett side of the family.. Her suggestions proved to be genuine improvements—little things like placement of various guests, timing of sections of the ceremony, even seating arrangements. Seems like Aunt Margie is more than just show and spectacle, though she was that, too.
At the reception she pulled another surprise out of her never empty bag of tricks. Unannounced and unplanned, she took the microphone, and while everyone doubtlessly expected a typical toast, they failed to understand that nothing about Aunt Margie is typical. She took the microphone, relished the hushed anticipation of the moment, took a long, sexy breath and in the silkiest, smoothest, smokiest voice crooned “That Old Black Magic” completely a cappella, and completely flawlessly.
As her velvety rich voice filled the room, the crowd was not just hushed, they were mesmerized. As was I.
She waltzed over to us, playing off me, then Alex, gently pulling us into her performance—we became actors in the play she was presenting. Then, stepping back slightly, she pulled us closer to each other. When she finished, she leaned into her nephew and whispered, “I think you should kiss your beautiful husband now.”
He did.
While Aunt Margie was singing, the DJ managed to find a recording of “That Old Black Magic”. When Margie had finished, the DJ began playing the song. It started as a gesture—an encore of sorts. He began the song while Alex was still kissing me. Aunt Margie took Alex by the hand and led him to the dance floor. Together Alex and Margie danced alone. Alex was graceful and poised. Midway through the song, Margie escorted Alex back to the table and took my hand and led me to the dance floor.
“God, you’re as wonderful a dancer as you are gorgeous,” she said. “And baby, you are gorgeous. My gawd those blue eyes of yours makes an old woman’s heart flutter. My nephew got lucky.”
“Uh . . . uh . . . we are . . . uh . . . uh I guess we’re both pretty lucky,” I stuttered out.
“My God, you’re so adorable. I’m telling my nephew that he better treat you right. You let old Aunt Margie know if that man ever gets out of line, you hear?”
I knew that Aunt Margie was not now nor ever would be called old. Nor would she act old or even admit to being old except for dramatic effect.
How could I not love Aunt Margie? She was practically a female drag queen.
“Play it one more time,” Aunt Margie called to the DJ who complied without hesitation.
Aunt Margie walked me back to the table and picked up the microphone and announced.
“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the newly married couple’s first dance.”
Alex stood up, took me by the hand, and led me to the dance floor. It was an enchanting moment, not just because I was dancing with my husband, or even that I finally realized that my new husband is an excellent dancer. It was enchanting because everyone was smiling—happy for us, relishing our moment, celebrating our union, not because we were brave. Not because two men got married, but because two human beings found each other and fell in love and could not nor would not live without each other. A couple who decided their lives should be united as one. That day Alex and I, and everyone there celebrated the love and passion that brings two people together.
Alex Carlyle and I were in that moment and forever would be a married couple.
Until death do us part.
Announcing my newest novel
Refiner’s Fire
Available this summer!
See excerpt below
Based on two epochal and historical events, the damming of the Saluda River to form Lake Murray and the series of events leading up to the Orangeburg Massacre, Refiner’s Fire is a tale of racial injustice and the struggle to overcome the cultural racism that marked the mid-twentieth century South.
Excerpt from Refiner’s Fire
I ain’t never broke in nobody’s house, and I ain’t never took what ain’t mine, and I ain’t never touched a white woman. That don’t matter. Mr. Amos said I done all that stuff, an’ that’s all it took. It don’t matter who did break in their house, not one little bit. Mr. Amos said I did, an’ he tol’ all them awful friends of his I did, an’ that was that.
It didn’t take them but three or four days before they came to Mama’s house real early in the mornin’. Drug me outta bed an’ tied me up like an animal. Mama was yellin’ and cryin’ an’ carryin’ on, but that didn’t do no good at all. They shoved her to the floor and yelled for her to shut up. Then they drug me all the way to Mr. Amos’ barn and chained me up inside. It was cold and damp in there. An’ I was scared to death, ‘cause I know ain’t nothin’ good gonna happen to this colored boy. I can’t do nothin’ but sit here hungry and cold and piss my pants.
What you’ll find here . . .
— An excerpt from “Refiner’s Fire
·— My blog, “Spicy Old Man”—a celebration of cooking and the stories behind the recipes. (mobile users look for the
— My short stories.
— With All Due Respect”. A blog-style series of essays on a wide variety of topics.
— A synopsis of my upcoming novel Unintended Consequences to be released December 16.
My novel “Unintended Consequences” will be available in December, 2025.
“Nathan Erskine never planned to teach—nor did he expect to encounter one particularly trying student and quit in his first year. Despite his doubts, Nathan’s classroom would become the unlikely stage for a destiny far larger than he could imagine.
Matthew Beckham prided himself on being the bad boy, until a punishing military academy broke him down and a summer with his eccentric family built him back up.
And then there’s Roderick Bastrop, a troubled young man who burst into an elementary school with a rifle and a plan—only to be met by Esther Evans, who saw in him not a monster, but the boy he still might be.
Years later, the lives of Nathan, Matthew, and Roderick will collide in ways none of them could have foreseen—testing the courage, convictions, and faith they share through their Southern upbringings.
A recently retired educator and musician, Jim has lived in multiple southern states and brings a wealth of life experiences to his work. Often reading his descriptions feels like visiting the places he describes. He loves Southern culture—in all its aspects, good and bad.
