I had a fifth-grade education when I decided to leave home, ... My mother gave me $9, and I took it and never had to go back to ask her or my daddy for a nickel.

My very first lessons in the art of telling stories took place in the kitchen . . . my mother and three or four of her friends. . . told stories. . .with effortless art and technique. They were natural-born storytellers in the oral tradition.

I tried to get my mother to move in with me, but she wanted to stay in her own home. When my mother died, my sister came down with cancer and I had to care for her.

This piece-bright paling shuts the spouse / Christ home, Christ and his mother and all his hallows.

Our house was where the whole neighborhood congregated. Mother and Dad made everyone feel so at home, so welcome. We didn't have much, but we always knew how to make our own fun.

I was always very shy but my older brother, Darryl, was working and my mother couldn't leave me home alone so I was dragged along to the studio.