Q: Share your favorite scene from the book.

A:  Canvassing I met a lady named Rebecca Crawford.  She lived alone in a little cabin.  She told me she had registered, but she hadn’t.  I tried to convince her to go to the courthouse with us – to help other folks register.  She said she would, but I was sure she wouldn’t.  When the bus pulled out of the parking lot going to the courthouse, she was walking up the road to catch it.  Once on the bus she told me she had never registered and that she could neither read nor write.  I told her all she had to do was write her name.  She tried, but the bus ride was too short.  I promised to “Come and learn me how to write so I cain regster next time.”  My favorite scene is about that day.

The road is just as long and as hot as before.  Far ahead, I can see someone moving toward me.  I recognize the straw hat first, then a basket on her arm and finally that beaming, delighted face.

“It’s you!”  She sets her basket down in the middle of the road and raises her arms to heaven as if in thanks.  I shake her hand and smile back into her eyes.

Before I can say anything, she says, “Chile, Ah bin wonderin’ where you was.  Sunday Ah prayed that you come an’ learn me how to write.”

I explain I have been busy trying to get other folks to register.

“When Ah gots up this mornin’ Ah was feeling something extra good was gon’ happen today.  Ah clean my house real good.  Ah felt so gran’ I come on down the road.  Ah saw you an’ Ah knew what that good was.  Look what Ah can do.”

She bends down and picks up a stick.  With a steady head she writes Rebecca slowly and deliberately in the sand.


Note: I remembered this story “purely.”  I’d written it down in my journal in shorthand, but I’d never forgotten Mrs. Crawford.  (I actually wrote to her until she died and I still write to her daughter.)  This was the first story I published.  It was the lead story in Chicken Soup for the African American Woman’s Soul and it is part of You Came Here to Die, Didn’t You.

Q: Were there any surprise rewards that came to you from penning your experiences for publication?

A:  There were delightful rewards.  The first came before the book was even written.  I was at the release weekend for Chicken Soup for the African American Woman’s Soul.  There were three days of book events.   We read our stories at dinner one night.  After I read mine a black lady came up to me with tears running down her face.  She took both of my hands and said, “You were talking about my mother and grandmother, my aunts and all of my relatives.  You made me see them in a way I never have before and I am so proud.”  It doesn’t get any better than that.

I wanted to see if other folks remembered each event as I did.  So, I interviewed everyone I could find who had been involved that summer.  What a marvelous experience that was.  I did the interviews in person and my husband videotaped each one.  Why marvelous?  I hadn’t seen most of them in over forty years.  We’d been “in the trenches” together and seeing them was a powerful experience.

People come to my book-signings and tell me their stories about how they dealt with discrimination in the 60s.  There was much more going on than we thought.

Q: Some voter rights volunteers served, went home, and lost touch with the communities in which they had worked. Fifty years later, what is your relationship with people in Pineville, South Carolina?

A:  I have mentioned Sarah Butler’s family before.  I met her canvassing.  She was already a voter, but she wanted me to talk to her husband.  She was in her sixties and she was so sweet to me.  She was the place I would go when I was just a scared kid.  I desegregated a black college, Allen University,  in Columbia, SC.  At Thanksgiving and Christmas my dorm closed and I had nowhere to go.  So, I went to Sarah’s.  We wrote and talked on the phone until she died.  On her deathbed she told her daughter Lottie that I was a good one, meaning white.  She said that Lottie should keep me, that we were sisters.  And, Lottie and I have acted on that request.  Lottie turns 93 in September and I will be at her birthday party as I try to be each year.  I am Aunt Sherie to two generations of Butler descendents.  I have other relationships in the community as well.  I have been blessed!

Q: What were some of the difficulties you encountered in getting the book “out there?”

A:  I had just begun the book when a book agent told me that the Civil Rights Movement was over and that no one would care about what I had to say.  I couldn’t get an agent.  I couldn’t get a publisher, so I published myself.  I am not a marketer, but I am doing the best that I can.  As my southern sister Lottie would say, I’m waiting on the Lord to show me the way while I plug along.

Q: What would you say is the book’s strongest takeaway message for readers?

A:  VOTE!  Get involved.  There are problems that need to be solved.  We can’t trust that someone else will solve them for us.

Q: What’s next on your plate?

A:  I’m writing about my family.  I come from a bunch of characters and they all told stories.

You Came Here to Die, Didn’t You is not a finished projectMaking it a household word – or at least a schoolhouse word – is an enormous endeavor.

Q: Where can readers learn more about you?

A:  I have a webpage at  On the webpage you can find information about the book, about me, teaching resources, discussion questions for book clubs and my blog.



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