In a certain part of the country called Appalachia you will find dogs named Prince or King living in little towns with names like Coal City and Sally's Backbone.
The kitchens of these houses where Mamie or Boyd or Oley live almost always smell like fried bacon or chicken and on top of the stoves there are little plates of food with leftovers from breakfast or lunch or supper and you can help yourself to a biscuit or maybe a piece of cornbread crumbled into a glass of buttermilk or some cold fried squash.
There will be a lot of singing in that church and maybe some crying for joy and after the service people will linger in the yard, talking, till the women say it's time to eat, and they will go home and sit around a table spread with potatoes and beans and meat and good hot coffee or sweet iced tea and they will eat until they can eat no more except for the piece of lemon pound cake they saved some room for.
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