I would stand outside the mill fence mesmerized by the shadows of
pumping Jacquard loom arms on the opaque windowpanes. I had found
where I wanted to go. It looked like fun to me. It looked like
magic. It didn't take long for that silly notion to be knocked out
of my head. But, I persevered and, as the years passed, lint became
This article appears in the Winter 2012 issue of Southern
. The full issue is also available as an ebook.
is published quarterly (spring, summer,
fall, winter) by the University of North Carolina Press. The
journal is sponsored by the University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill's Center for the Study of the American South.