Lint Head: A worker at a textile mill (usually/most commonly Cannon) in the small town of Kannapolis, North Carolina. Lug Nut: 1. A bolt used to fasten tires upon their changing, most commonly referring to NASCAR in the Kannapolis area. 2. Anyone that lives in this general area.

I recently completed the semi-classic Lewis Grizzard satire Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You, and my first reaction was utter dispair upon hearing that Grizzard had passed away some ten years earlier. In all actuality, I’d suspected his death many years before, but not having read a Lewis Grizzard novel until a few days ago, I was only recently confirmed in my suspicions.

Lewis Grizzard is an interesting case study in the American satirist. Some may remember him more for his comedic novels, while others point to his career as a journalist in Atlanta and abroad. In reading Kathy Sue, it becomes apparent after the first fifty pages that Lewis is indeed writing a satire on the state of the country as it was in the late 1970′s. He makes no apologies for his views: he’s proud to be Southern, and his views on women and the feminist movement are only beginning to make an appearance in his literature cannon. Also, his hatred for the communists (read the chapter about the Russian speaker at Harvard) is in full force here as well, though much of his sentiments later on in the text are first established within the first several chapters, which are the least funny, but the best written.

It’s a rare trait that Grizzard exemplifies in this book. Though half the book is very much a satire/parody of various situations, a lot of this particular Grizzard book can be chalked up to Lewis’ personal commentaries on life, as it happened to him. Sure, the story of the No-Name Bar, Studio 54 and the blatantly stereotypical football scouting list are light-hearted jabs at the establishment mixed in with traces of personal opinion, but much in the book (from his Southern heritage, to his passion for the train and various stories from the road) are real accounts of his actual emotions as he tackles each issue. The stories of family and friends departed will moisten more than a few eyes, and the laid back, personal nature with which he relates stories of triumph and tragedy are quite well done, and worth the time to read.

And if you look, real close, you can catch a glimpse of a small town’s name, in the midst of a list of all the old Southern Crescent stops. Right after Spartanburg, and just before Charlotte lies a town, Gastonia. My town, similar to how Atlanta was Lewis’ town. The experiences from 1978 are surely different from the experiences I’ll be sharing in 2008, but a lot of that flavor will remain the same. Lewis Grizzard may not be embodiment of the classic American writer, and he shouldn’t be. It’d take away from the mystique and the aura surrounding him. But, just like Lewis did for his friend in time, I will most definitely credit Lewis Grizzard in my own book one day. And in case I never make it to see the day where I stand beside Lewis Grizzard, then this is the mention that I promised myself I’d make for him. Mission Accomplished, Lewis.

Last 5 posts by Steve Price

• The High Lonesome - March 6th, 2006
• Southern Comfort: Remembering Eddie Guerrero - November 14th, 2005
• Southern Comfort: Here's to Football - September 12th, 2005
• Southern Comfort: Why We Follow Sports - August 29th, 2005
• Southern Comfort: Real Writers Need Not Apply - August 23rd, 2005