Judy Lee Green |
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Her daughter's earliest and most enduring inspiration |
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You
may have tangible wealth untold; - Strickland Gillilan |
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Judy Lee Green was writing poems, making up stories, and scribbling them on scrap paper
long before her daughter and fellow writer Kory Wells was born. Judy has come to love her computer in the last
few years but does not have her own web site. Kory is glad to brag on
her mom here.
Judy Lee has received dozens of awards for her work, including the
and many other tributes. Read Judy Lee online: Essay/Creative Nonfiction “The Magic of Mercurochrome” at Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal “Death by Dove” at Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal “Sleeping with the Sausage” at USADEEPSOUTH “Dish Night” at Southern Scribe Poetry “Whirligigs on My Grave” at Plum Biscuit “I Need Mountains” at Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal “The Two-Holer” at USADEEPSOUTH Fiction "The Chocolate Chronicles" at Long Story Short
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A writer since the age of nine, Judy Lee Green has been published hundreds of times in literary journals, magazines, and newspapers. She is a featured speaker in the Middle Tennessee area through her memoir program of Life Stories. She teaches and enables others to harvest their own memories and flex their memory muscles. Read where some of Judy Lee’s most recent work can be found:
“His presence brought me peace and comfort. As he prepared to leave the next morning I asked him if he would be back at 7:00 PM that night. I had entirely forgotten my bias against male nurses. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I go wherever I’m needed.’” Available March 1, 2010, at bookstores or at HCI Books.
“Each note I write is a prayer to our heavenly Father on the recipient’s behalf. When I put pen to paper, He seems to provide the appropriate words.”
“The bottle tree stood alongside blown-out tires filled with dirt and planted with flowers, gourd birdhouses, twig furniture, floribunda roses entwined on abandoned farm equipment, and a clothesline that stretched clear across the front yard where my daddy’s overalls buck danced on windy days and my mama’s sheets waltzed in light breezes.”
“One night after supper my daddy was washing dishes and my mama was drying. Mama’s favorite plate slipped out of my daddy’s soapy hands, but he caught it before it hit the edge of the porcelain sink and no damage was done. “‘You better not break my favorite plate,’” my mama warned him.” Widely available in bookstores and through online sellers, including here on amazon.com.
“We kids shot ladyfingers and lit sparklers. We stood in the cold night air and shivered as our breaths formed little smoky puffs that melted in the air like Mama’s divinity on the tips of our tongues.” Edited by Dixon Hearne, the anthology may be ordered here on amazon.com.
“My mama, a bride at the age of fourteen, birthed five little babies in the next seven years. We were the baby dolls in the window of the five-and-ten-cent store that her sharecropper daddy could never afford. Delighted with us, she dressed us up and changed our clothes, counted our fingers and kissed our toes…” Order from passagerpress.com.
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