Guiding Angel

One of the more attractive items in our gift shop is a St. Raphael prayer card designed by one of Flannery's first cousins, Frances Florencourt.  This prayer was so important to Flannery that she recited it every day for many years (The Habit of Being, p. 590).  Furthermore, as disclosed in a letter to Betty Hester in 1956 (see The Habit of Being p. 132), O'Connor even borrowed imagery from it and put it in her short story, "The Displaced Person" ("the business of Mrs. Shortley  looking on the frontiers of her true country.").  The allusion is apropos since all of us are, like Mrs. Shortley, travelers journeying to our "true country." According to Catholic belief, Raphael is the patron saint of travelers (in addition to medical workers and matchmakers).  In the biblical book of Tobit (considered canonical by Catholics), the archangel Raphael appears in human form as Azarias, the traveling companion of Tobit's blind son, Tobias.  During the course of their journey, Azarias's protective beneficence is revealed in many ways, including the binding of a demon in the Egyptian desert.  Upon reaching their destination and Tobias's miraculous healing, Azarias reveals himself as "the angel Raphael, one of the seven, who stand before the Lord." (Tobit 12:15)  Here, then, is the full text of this beautiful prayer to St. Raphael that meant so much to Flannery:
O Raphael, lead us toward those we are waiting for, those who are waiting for us: Raphael, Angel of happy meeting, lead us by the hand toward those we are looking for.  May all our movements be guided by your Light and transfigured by your joy.
Angel, guide of Tobias, lay the request we now address to you at the feet of Him on whose unveiled Face you are privileged to gaze.  Lonely and tired, crushed by the separations and sorrows of life, we feel the need of calling you and of pleading for the protection of your wings, so that we may not be as strangers in the province of joy, all ignorant of the concerns of our country.  Remember the weak, you who are strong, you whose home lies beyond the region of thunder, in a land that is always peaceful, always serene and bright with the resplendent glory of God.
- Mark

Tree Trimming

Regular visitors to Andalusia will notice that there is more sunlight flooding the front yard.  This is because last week we had a number of our venerable oak trees trimmed to insure their ongoing vitality.  The work - which took two days -  will not only benefit the trees, which we hope will be around for many more years, but also the front lawn. More light should encourage the grass to grow.  From an aesthetic standpoint, the work we had done makes the place look more open and airy, more like it was when the O'Connors were living at Andalusia.  Look some time at vintage photos of the farm and you will see what I mean.
- Mark

Carrying the Torch

From time to time in this blog I have cited some modern writers who I believe carry on Flannery O'Connor's legacy. Among those who have been influenced by her and could be considered her literary heirs are Barbara Kingsolver, Louise Erdrich, and Cormac McCarthy.  This week Craig said that he saw an article online that makes the case for Marilynne Robinson.  That caught my attention because I am presently reading her first novel, Housekeeping.  Do a Google search sometime with Flannery O'Connor and Marilynne Robinson and you will find a slew of articles comparing and contrasting the two authors.  Unlike some of the writers mentioned above, however,  Marilynne Robinson acknowledges no indebtedness to O'Connor.  In fact, she has been critical of O'Connor for Flannery's less than serious approach to her subject matter.  Robinson claims "the influence of Flannery O'Connor has been particularly destructive" by leading readers not to expect "serious fiction to treat religious thought respectfully." (Robinson, "A World of Beautiful Souls")  While their style and approach may differ, Robinson's and O'Connor's thematic concerns are similar enough to invite comparison.  So what do you all think?  Does Marilynne Robinson follow in Flannery's footsteps?  Does she carry the O'Connor torch in the 21st century?  However one answers those questions, I do think Robinson's work, meager as it is in terms of quantity (3 novels in 33 years), will, like Flannery's, stand the test of time.
- Mark

Kierkegaard's Kin?

Last Sunday marked the 200th anniversary of the birth of one my all-time favorite guys, Soren Kierkegaard.  Considering the incalculable influence he has had on modern thought, it is surprising that scarcely a word about his bicentenary appeared in the press.  Thinkers as diverse as Nietzsche, Sartre, Camus, and Heidegger were influenced by him, as were many modern and post-modern fiction writers.  Indeed, a work such as Wise Blood would have been impossible without Kierkegaard.  Though Flannery O'Connor disavowed any literary kinship to the great Dane, she did read him.  In fact, in a letter to Betty Hester (see The Habit of Being p. 273) it can be inferred that she even found Fear and Trembling intellectually stimulating.  While O'Connor may have wanted her audience to think that Thomas Aquinas was her literary and spiritual north star, the truth of the matter is others such as Kierkegaard were more important in her development as an artist.  It is curious how Flannery could deny his influence given the fact that she loved Dostoevsky, a writer whose novels are literary counterparts to the works of the philosopher, theologian, mystic (it's so hard to put a label on him!) from Copenhagen.  At the very least, both writers shared a common fate of not being understood in their lifetimes.  Flannery once quipped that she could wait a hundred years to be understood, and while she may not have had to wait that long, poor Kierkegaard did. 
- Mark

Waiting Room Dramas

This week I started Louise Erdrich's novel, The Round House.  Though I am only in the fourth chapter, I was struck by how reminiscent one of the book's opening scenes is to the doctor's waiting room in "Revelation."  Though in Erdrich's novel the scene is not as pivotal as it is in Flannery's story, there is a character in it who is every bit as judgmental and bigoted as Ruby Turpin.  To set the stage, 13-year-old Joe, whose mother has just been rushed to the hospital after being raped, is ushered into a hospital waiting room.  In there he sees a skinny pregnant woman and an older woman who is knitting the thumb of a mitten.  The pregnant woman looks up from her People magazine with Cher on the cover and speaks to Joe. 

"Don't you Indians have your own hospital over there?  Aren't you building a new one?
The emergency room's under construction, I told her.
Still, she said.
Still what?  I made my voice grating and sarcastic."
The skinny pregnant woman resumes her reading.  Before long she looks up and speaks to the knitting lady.
"Looked like that poor woman had a miscarriage or maybe - her voice went sly - a rape.
The woman's lip lifted up off her rabbit teeth as she looked at me.  Her ratty yellow hair quivered.  I looked right back, into her lashless hazel eyes.  Then I did something odd by instinct.  I went over and took the magazine out of her hands.  Still staring at her, I tore off the cover and dropped the rest of the magazine.  I ripped again.  Cher's identical eyebrows parted.  The lady who was knitting pursed her lips, counting stitches.  I gave the cover back and the woman accepted the pieces." (The Round House - pp. 8-9)

Though Joe's actions are not as violent or out of control as Mary Grace's, there are connections to the O'Connor story - intended or not.  Louise Erdrich is one of our most gifted writers and, while she has other aims in her fiction than O'Connor, I just wonder if maybe this isn't a little homage to Flannery that she tucked into the narrative.
- Mark

Under the Big Top

Lest visitors to Andalusia today get the impression that the brothers Ringling have taken up residence, let me assure you that the circus tent pitched behind the main house (which takes up practically our entire parking area), is for the reception we're hosting this evening for the Georgia Trust for Historic Preservation.  Their Spring Ramble and annual meeting are being held in Milledgeville this year and we're honored that they've chosen to have the Friday evening buffet in this bucolic setting.  With an anticipated 450 visitors, it promises to be the largest event ever held at Andalusia.  Prior to these shindigs, there will be an awards ceremony in the Legislative Chambers of the Old Capitol Building at Georgia Military College at which the Flannery O'Connor-Andalusia Foundation will be receiving an award for the restoration of the Hill House.  Accepting the award for the Foundation will be our Executive Director, Craig Amason.
- Mark

No Georgia Kafka?

Flannery O'Connor claimed that she hadn't even heard of, much less, read Franz Kafka until she went to graduate school at the University of Iowa.  "When I went to Iowa I had never heard of Faulkner, Kafka, Joyce, much less read them." (Collected Works p. 950).  Perhaps Flannery was trying to point out the deficiency of her literary education, but the truth of the matter is that O'Connor did read Joyce and Faulkner with enthusiasm while she was at GSCW (and some of her earliest stories show their influence).  I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she hadn't read Kafka, too, before she got to Iowa.  One can certainly find literary parallels in her work and that of the great Czech author.  Caroline Gordon certainly did.  In a blurb on the dust jacket to the first edition of Wise Blood, Gordon compares the novel favorably to the absurdest fables of Kafka: "Her picture of the modern world is literally terrifying.  Kafka is almost the only one of our contemporaries who has achieved such effects." Flannery was not flattered. She claimed she wasn't able to get through The Trial and The Castle.  She once told a class at GSCW that she was "distressed" that others thought she shared the intellectual pessimism of an existentialist like Kafka.  (see Brad Gooch Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor - p. 204).  In a more pointed remark to her friend Ashley Brown she exasperatedly exclaimed, "I'm no Georgia Kafka." (Collected Works p. 911).  I beg to differ.  As is often the case with O'Connor, it is the writers she says she hates (e.g. Erskine Caldwell, Carson McCullers) that have influenced her more than she is willing to admit.
- Mark

Thank you, Mark

Readers of this blog know that our Visitors Services Manager, Mark Jurgensen, is the person responsible for posting here, and he comes up with all the content.  However, I thought I would take advantage of the time while Mark is away on a short vacation (he published a post yesterday before he left) to express my appreciation for all he does at Andalusia.  After a few months of volunteering for the Foundation, Mark began his employment here in October, 2009.  I cannot express how grateful I was and am to the Foundation Board of Directors for making the move to hire Mark as a part-time staff member.  A fairly new reader of Flannery O'Connor when he was hired, Mark completely immersed himself into the author's world, carefully studying her fiction and extensively exploring criticism of her work.  He spent months going over materials I provided for him, and he read the most recent biography of O'Connor by Brad Gooch twice.  He memorized the docent script I provided and soon began to enhance it with his own insights, always taking great care to be accurate and respectful about O'Connor's life and literature.  Within a short time, Mark began giving almost all the tours to our visitors, and though he doesn't like me to say this, he actually gives a better tour than I do.  He also does a marvelous job of managing our gift shop, ensuring that it is well stocked and letting me know when inventories are running low.

In addition to embracing the job as our primary docent, Mark volunteered to assume a crucial chore at Andalusia: taking care of the peafowl.  He cleans out the aviary EVERY DAY that he works.  He makes sure the birds have plenty of food and water, and thankfully, he reminds me to do the same when he is going to be away.  He buys treats for them, and they are so relaxed around Mark that the birds will eat spinach leaves right out of his hand.  Another of Mark's responsibilities that is vital to our success at Andalusia is maintaining the Foundation's donor database, from which we generate mailing lists for annual appeal letters and the Friends of Andalusia newsletter.  If I were to describe all the many ways that Mark has contributed to the Foundation's success at Andalusia, this post would not be in keeping with the succinct and readable entries his readers have come to expect.  The icing on the cake is the fact that Mark's wife, Judy, is always so generous as a volunteer and makes some of the best refreshments you'll find at any reception, anywhere! 

From proofing written materials to moving furniture, from answering inquiries from around the world to sweeping the front porch, Mark never complains about the all-encompassing line in most job descriptions, "related duties as required."  Forgive me for treading on your blog turf, Mark, but I just want everyone to know how grateful I am for your hard work and dedication to Flannery O'Connor and the Foundation's mission at Andalusia.

--Craig Amason, Executive Director

Hold the Icing

Having recently finished Heather King's fine book on St. Therese of Lisieux, I wondered what Flannery thought of the "Little Flower."  Given O'Connor's aversion to the cloying and the sentimental, I wouldn't have been at all surprised if she dismissed Therese simply because most biographies of the saint, who died in 1897 at the age of 24, are unbearably saccharine.   Fortunately, there are exceptions, such as a book on Therese that Flannery had the good fortune to read in 1956.  In a letter to her spiritual director and confessor, Fr. John McCown, she writes "I have just read a very funny book by a priest named Fr. Robo - on St. Theresa Lisieux [sic].  It's called Two Portraits of St. Theresa.  He has managed (by some not entirely crooked means) to get hold of a photograph of her that the Carmelites have not 'touched up' which shows her to be a round-faced, determined, rather comical-looking girl.  He does away with all the roses, little flowers, and other icing.  The book has greatly increased my devotion to her." (The Habit of Being p. 135).  Thanks to the work of people like Fr. Robo and more recent studies by folks such as Heather King, we now have a truer picture of the saint, so different from the idealized statues one sees of her in many Catholic churches.
- Mark

Duck Duds

I don't know if Flannery O'Connor ever had a duck named "Donald," but she kept a small flock of them and, following in her seamstress mother's footsteps, even made clothes for them.  Yes, Flannery was a rare - some might say odd - bird, indeed!  In a home economics class she was taking at Peabody High School, the students were assigned a sewing project.  While most of her classmates went to work right away designing aprons and the like, Flannery procrastinated.  During class time she sat off to the side appearing to be not the least bit interested in what the others were doing.  Finally, the day came when the students were to present and display the various garments they made during the quarter.  According to a fellow student who was there, "On the appointed day Flannery arrived with her pet duckling, and a whole outfit of underwear and clothes, beautifully sewn to fit the duck!  The class in great glee all gathered round and helped dress the duck.  Flannery successfully passed the course."  (see Brad Gooch's Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor pp. 77-78)
- Mark

Flannery's Prayers

Surely some of the best selling items we've carried in the Andalusia gift shop over the years have been books about Flannery O'Connor's spirituality - titles such as Flannery O'Connor: Spiritual Writings (currently out of stock) and The Province of Joy: Praying with Flannery O'Connor, edited by Angela Alaimo O'Donnell.  Visitors ask us fairly frequently about O'Connor's spiritual practices.  Being the devout Catholic she was, Flannery's prayer life was pretty structured.  She prayed portions of the daily office (a replica of her breviary is on the bedside table in her room), did sacred reading ("lectio divina") of the Bible, Thomas Aquinas, etc., and participated in the liturgical life of the Catholic Church through daily mass attendance.  By temperament and personality, she was not drawn to less structured forms of prayer.  However, during the time she was at the University of Iowa in graduate school, O'Connor kept a prayer journal.  The prayers in this book contain some of her most personal devotional writings.  I'm very excited to announce that on November 12th, Farrar, Straus and Giroux will be releasing this journal edited by her friend Bill Sessions.  For a sneak peak click on this link.  While you're there, see if you can spot Flannery in the group photo that was taken with Pope Pius XII during her trip to Europe in 1958. 
- Mark

Walk of Glory

In 1999 the Iowa City Public Art Advisory Committee came up with a great idea to honor the writers - and there are a bunch of them - that are either from Iowa or have connections to the state.  The resulting  Iowa City Literary Walk consists of a series of bronze relief panels by artist Gregg LeFevre that feature quotes from the literary notables.  These panels are set in the pavement along both sides of Iowa Avenue from Clinton Street to Gilbert Street.  Of primary interest to readers of this blog is the one honoring Flannery O'Connor, who lived in the state from 1945-48 while she was in graduate school at the University of Iowa.  We thank Iowa City resident and author, Larry Baker, for sending us this photo of Flannery's panel.  Speaking of walks of glory, I came across a compelling interpretation of O'Connor's story "Revelation" by Kathleen Mulhern.  While I don't usually get into literary criticism on this blog, I think  "Loving Mrs. Turpin, Loving the Grotesque" is worthwhile, especially for those who don't understand why Flannery dealt in the grotesque and why it occupies such a prominent place in her fiction.
- Mark

A Dangerous Proposition

In her blog post last Sunday, my friend Heather King ponders war and peace.  She cites an interview she saw in The Sun with former Vietnam veteran and war resistor, S. Brian Willson.  Here is part of that interview conducted by reporter Greg King:

King: In Vietnam you accompanied a South Vietnamese lieutenant into a village that had been napalmed just an hour before. Burned and blown-up bodies of women and children lay scattered about. But when you broke down, the lieutenant couldn't figure out what your problem was. How was his reaction humanly possible?

Willson: I think we're all capable of being in denial of our humanity. And we're all capable of participating in evil.

When I looked into the eyes of a dead woman I saw there, what I experienced wasn't a thought, it was an overwhelming sensation that hit my body. The lieutenant asked me what was wrong, and my brain and nervous system struggled to come up with words. "She's my sister," I finally said. It was just an interpretation of what I felt. It's like when a father goes home and sees his child and just wants to hug her. It's a response that comes out of your whole being. It's love. It has nothing to do with thought.

After reading this, I responded stating that Mr. Willson's comments remind me of those of the grandmother at the end of Flannery's short story, "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." Though in a different context, the grandmother views her assailant, the Misfit, through the same eyes of love: "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" And we all know what happens immediately afterwards when she reaches out to touch the Misfit's shoulder.  He blows her away. Heather remarked: "Yes, just like they/we blew Christ away...realizing everyone is our sister and brother is an extremely dangerous proposition."
- Mark

Cash Kin

Monday afternoon some visitors stopped by.  I noticed that a young man in the group was wearing a Johnny Cash tee shirt.  I asked if he was a fan of the "man in black."  He responded that not only was he a big fan, but also a blood relative.  While nobody knows if Flannery O'Connor listened to Johnny Cash or had even heard of him, it's not coincidental that fans (and family) of his would be drawn to Andalusia.  I don't think it's too much of a stretch to say that there are a lot of parallels in the stories of Flannery O'Connor and the music of Johnny Cash.  Their art can be characterized as gritty and raw.  Because both artists deal with life lived close to the bone, there aren't a lot of "happy" endings to his songs or her stories.  Take for instance, the conclusion of Folsom Prison Blues or any of a number of songs from Cash's great album Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison.  Furthermore, a dark humor pervades many of these pieces that also resonates through O'Connor's fiction.  As bleak as Cash's music can be, it embraces a vision of life that is ultimately redemptive, as the songs on My Mother's Hymn Book provide ample evidence.  The music in this, Cash's personal favorite of all the albums he recorded, reflects the piety not only of the characters in O'Connor's work, but the people in Milledgeville that she knew.  It is the hymnody of people who wouldn't know a Tantum Ergo from a Gloria Patri, but for all that there is an authenticity and sincerity of devotion in this music that Flannery envied, as it was an element she sometimes found lacking amongst her fellow Catholics.  Finally, and it's just an observation, doesn't this picture of Johnny Cash look like he just stepped out of "A Good Man Is Hard to Find"?  I bet you can't guess which character.
- Mark

Farewell Well

Big news here at the farm! After decades of relying on well water, yesterday we were finally able to tap into the municipal system.  This is the first time that Andalusia has been on city water in the history of the farm.  And what a boon it is going to be for us.  No longer do we have to worry about running out of water if we're hosting a big event like the bluegrass concert.  No longer do we have to fret about the quality of the water coming out of the tap, especially when we've had unusually high rainfalls as we have this winter.  Nor do we have to worry anymore about the well running dry during summer droughts. Of course, none of this would have happened were it not for the dogged persistence of Craig.  One can only imagine how happy the O'Connor family would be if they could have been on city water.  Of course, when they were living here that was not possible because Andalusia was way out in the country, far from the city proper.  So they had to depend on the well behind the main house.  Much later, they dug another well near the horse barn and this was the source of our water until yesterday.  However, should the city's water service ever get disrupted we have the capacity to temporarily switch back to well water.  Ahhh.....the comforts (and conveniences) of home!
- Mark

You're So Vain!

On this Valentine's Day, I would like to answer a question we are asked fairly often: "Was there a significant other in Flannery's life?"  The answer is a qualified yes.  While O'Connor didn't date in high school or college, there was a man who entered her life shortly after she moved to Andalusia.  His name was Erik Langkjaer, a regional textbook salesman for the Harcourt Brace Co. (the same firm that published O'Connor).  He was introduced to her by a professor at Georgia College one spring afternoon in late April 1953.  The son of a Danish diplomat and lawyer, he was handsome, sophisticated, and funny.  Langkjaer and Flannery hit it off immediately.  He would take her for car rides through Baldwin County and the two would talk about things that few others in Milledgeville knew about or much cared about.  He was drawn to her quirky style and off-beat sense of humor.  She had never before met a man she could open up to the way she could to Langkjaer.  In fact, the usually laconic Flannery once told him in a letter that she felt like she could talk to him for a million years.  Unfortunately, while she may have had romantic feelings towards him, they were not reciprocated.  This was especially noticeable after he returned to Denmark in 1954.  Flannery would write to him, and it would be weeks before she would hear back. She once pleaded with him just to send a postcard so she would have an excuse to write him.  Eventually, she received a letter from him stating that he had met another woman and they were intending to get married.  Flannery was devastated.  However, instead of wallowing in her grief she threw herself into her art, writing one of her best short stories, "Good Country People."  Shortly after this story came out, Langkjaer wrote Flannery and said that  he recognized himself in the character of the nefarious Bible salesman, Manley Pointer.  Flannery responded with the epistolary equivalent of Carly Simon's You're So Vain, telling him in essence not to flatter himself so.  While they never saw one another again, Flannery and Erik (who is still living) continued to stay in touch,  though their letters became more infrequent as the years went by.  So far was he off Flannery's radar by 1962 that she even managed to misspell his name as "Eric" in a stray reference.  For more details on this one-sided love affair, please consult chapter 7 ("The Bible Salesman") in Brad Gooch's Flannery: A Life of Flannery O'Connor.
- Mark

Whispers of Faith

In her essay "The Fiction Writer and his Country," Flannery O'Connor describes how she approaches writing to an increasingly secular audience: “The novelist with Christian concerns will find in modern life distortions which are repugnant to him, and his problem will be to make these appear as distortions to an audience which is used to seeing them as natural; and he may well be forced to take ever more violent means to get his vision across to this hostile audience. When you can assume that your audience holds the same beliefs you do, you can relax a little and use more normal ways of talking to it; when you have to assume that it does not, then you have to make your vision apparent by shock -- to the hard of hearing you shout, and for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.” (Mystery and Manners, pp. 33-34)  And shout she did with some of the most startling prose of the mid-twentieth century.  But that was then and this is now.  Is it still necessary for the "novelist with Christian concerns" to shout in order to be heard?  Not at all, according to Gregory Wolfe in an excellent article published last month in the Wall Street Journal.  Wolfe, who is editor of  Image, notes that O'Connor was writing in a different cultural context from the authors of today. Her approach "made sense in the context of her time, when the old Judeo-Christian narrative was locked in a struggle with the new secular narratives of Marx, Freud and Darwin. However, we live in a postmodern world, where any grand narrative is suspect, where institutions are seen as oppressive." Citing the writings of Christopher Behan, Doris Betts, and Alice McDermott, Mr. Wolfe asserts that "the faith found in literature [today] is more whispered than shouted. Perhaps a new Flannery O'Connor will rise, but meanwhile we might try listening more closely to the still, small voice that is all around us."
- Mark

Flannery's Super Bowl Pick

Yes, friends, it's that time of year again when Flannery O'Connor picks the winner of the coveted Vince Lombardi trophy.  As in the past, in making her prediction Flannery factors in many intangibles, some of which have nothing to do with the game on the field.  Going against the odds-makers in Las Vegas and the prognosticators at ESPN, Flannery is going with the Baltimore Ravens.  Why?  Well, let's consider the name of the team.  The Ravens are so named for a poem penned by Baltimore's most famous writer, Edgar Allan Poe.  He was also one of Flannery's favorite authors and the one, it could be argued, who influenced her more than any other.  Let us also consider the city the Ravens represent.  Baltimore, indeed all of Maryland, was settled by Catholics and to this day is a stronghold of Catholicism in this country.  After all, when Flannery was at St. Vincent's Academy preparing for confirmation, it wasn't the San Francisco Catechism she was studying.  When one looks at the lineups of the 49ers and the Ravens, the players on Baltimore's team could easily have stepped out of an O'Connor story.  They are, in the words of O'Connor scholar Sarah Gordon, "strange, forbidding, and bizarre."  Don't think so?  Put yourself in the shoes of 49er quarterback Colin Kaepernick as you look across the line of scrimmage at the icy glare of Ray Lewis, who would like nothing better than to rip your head off.  Finally, the Ravens play a brand of football that is similar to O'Connor's writing style - gritty, tough, hard-edged, and close to the bone. In that respect the Ravens are a throw-back to the way football was played when Flannery was alive.  They are more like the Bears and  Packers of old than the razzle-dazzle teams of today.  Given all these considerations, Flannery takes the Ravens by a field goal, 27-24.
- Mark

A Cool College

Every year or so around this time a group of  students from Centre College visits Andalusia.  And I must say I look forward to their visit more than just about any other group that comes out here.  Tuesday morning was no exception as the big blue bus with the Kentucky thoroughbred painted on the side rumbled up the driveway.  The students and their professor, Dr. Mark Lucas, got off and made their way to the front steps where I told them about Andalusia and why it's such a special place.  I really didn't need to, however, as they have read just about everything in the Library of America edition of O'Connor's works.  As in past years, these collegians were attentive and asked excellent questions.  It didn't matter that it was about 40 degrees outside (which was something of a reprieve for them seeing as it was only 4 above zero when they left Danville, Kentucky the day before).  The Centre students were interested in learning all they could about Flannery and her home.  After I led them into the house, I noticed that there wasn't the usual boisterousness we often get with groups of young people.  Standing outside Flannery's bedroom, they were reverently quiet.  You could tell they were in awe of where they were and I just think this speaks volumes for them, their professor, and their school.  No, I'm not an alum nor do I work in the admissions department, but in my humble opinion if you or someone you know is thinking about college you'd be hard-pressed to find a better school than Centre. 
- Mark

Busman's Holiday

On Tuesday, Toby Aldrich, docent at the O'Connor Childhood Home in Savannah, visited Andalusia.  It was the first time he has been out here since 2006 and, not surprisingly, was duly impressed with all the work that has been done on the farm since that time.  The reason for his visit?  Because the childhood home is closed this week for cleaning, he decided to take a busman's holiday and visit our site.  After touring Andalusia, Toby planned to see the O'Connor Room at Georgia College and Memory Hill Cemetery.  From there he was going to head across the state to tour Carson McCullers's home in Columbus.  Now that is a docent who loves his job!  Some time after Toby  left, it occurred to me that I've never mentioned O'Connor's Childhood Home on this blog.  My bad!  The town house on Charlton Street is a must-see attraction in Savannah and, for all you Flannery fans, it needs to be on your bucket list of places to go.  The Flannery O'Connor Childhood Home Foundation has done a masterful job restoring the home where the future author spent the first third of her life.  There are many original  pieces on display in the home, including the perambulator you see here that her parents used to walk their infant daughter along the sunny squares of Savannah.  The best part of visiting the home, however, is the delightful tour you will receive from the affable Mr. Aldrich.
- Mark