Getting to Know Lizzie
by S. M. Hutchens
When I was a little boy, our family lived down the street from a big, ramshackle house where lived a girl named Lizzie who was the most fascinating person I had ever met. She was about my age, we played together whenever we could, and I liked her a lot. She and her family, I was told, were from deep in the southern hills. I had never heard a person speak as she did; her language was as fascinating as her person, although my mother didn't seem too pleased about my acquiring some of it, especially, as I recall, "ai . . .