We're not Immortal After All

Dixie Carter died.

I didn't think things like that happened to people like us, Southern Ladies. I've been so naive. Now this. It changes everything. If something so unmentionable can happen to Dixie Carter then it can probably happen to me, too.

Am I ready? Have I hostessed enough garden parties, attended enough UDC meetings, baked enough casseroles, been to enough football games, grown enough tomatoes, eaten enough cucumber finger sandwiches, taught enough Bible School, mulched enough magnolias to enter through the pearly gates and recline in my heavenly home along the banks of the Suwannee River?

Miss Dixie, I hope that sweet chariot swings low for you and carries you on home, where the angels sit you down to a fine meal of fried chicken, okra, butterbeans, summer squash, sweet iced tea, and Mama's homemade mashed potatoes. And I hope all your kinfolk, who went on before you, are gathered around that table, too, talking and laughing and telling stories and generally welcoming you. What a wonderful celebration it must be when a Southern Lady gets to the other side.

Rest in peace, Miss Dixie. All us girls down here, now that we know the Lord will send for us as someday, as well, have got a whole lot of silver to polish so we can be ready.

You hear that, Lord! A whole, heap of a lot of silver to polish, so please don't show up for the party before I'm expecting you.