On the way to Tuscaloosa, a trip I shared with over 100 mobile homes on trailers marked "FEMA," I heard a strange radio commercial. Around Fort Payne, AL, a voice came on the radio saying "Save money on Wallace! Come on in to Farmer's Wallace and get a great deal!" and so on. "Wallace?" I thought. What is this "Wallace"? I couldn't figure it out. Finally he said something about cell phones and then it hit me. He was saying "wireless." In Knoxville it would "wahrrliss." In Ithaca it would be "wiyerless." In Alabama, it's "wallace."

Grandmother and I drove out to Northport this afternoon. It has changed a lot since my days as a senior in high school. It's always a strange sensation going to a place you lived for a long time but haven't seen for an even longer time. We went down past the road to the old high school - but I couldn't remember where the turn was. We drove past the Burger King where I has my first job, and the Quincy's, which is now a Peking House, where I worked to pay for my car insurance while I was an undergrad at the University of Alabama. We drove down Highway 43, past the place where I ran off the road in the wee hours of a morning, and out toward Graceland Acres, passing the new high school along the way. I could have walked there from my house, had it been there when I was a senior at Tuscaloosa County High. We drove down Mitt Lary, left on Frank Lary, and left on Graceland Acres. Up the hill, down the hill, up and down another, and there was the house. It looked pretty much the same. I wished I could see the pond behind the house, but I couldn't. I hope it's still there. Then we drove back out to the road, past the new little shopping center and McDonald's and back into Tuscaloosa, where we met my grandmother's lifelong best friend and her family at the 15th Street diner.