“You’ll be lookin’ for him in the broom grass and he’ll be sneakin’ up on you in the water.”
–Woody of The Wren’s Nest
Today I sat in the steamy heat of a West End Victorian garden and listened to the folktale of Brer Alligator, who didn’t know what trouble was but decided it couldn’t be as bad as his comrade Brer Rabbit had warned.
We sometimes become convinced we’re untouchable. But we’re touched by everything we experience, and the scars we collect are usually worth the lessons that go along with them. I mean, if Brer Alligator hadn’t caught on fire and earned those bumps, we could hardly call him an alligator at all.
Did I mention how much I have come to enjoy Gator Bites?
Cavalier Career 
Gator Taters?!?!?! You really are in the South!
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You need to get Beth’s mama started on Uncle Remus stories when you come down to the farm — she do go on. That, and Kipling’s Just So Stories.
If your little cousin Will eats any more gator bites I’m afraid he’ll turn into one. He already has the personality . . .
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Tell Will we will have a gator cookin’ party the next time we meet up. I am all over it. Think he would be into Paula Deen? đŸ˜‰
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