When it came time to go to college, I chose Bob Jones University in Greenville, South Carolina.
I knew little of Michigan State or the University of Michigan or any other college that might actually have educated me, but even if I had, my family would have forbidden my attendance.
At eighteen, I had never worn a pair of slacks or been inside a movie theater or heard a Beatles song.
My family dreamed that I would become a Christian schoolteacher or, better, a preacher's wife.
We believed in the literal hell, a place down there for bad people to suffer and scream forever in a nonconsuming fire.
I received my first spanking when I was seven days old. Many people say that I am the nicest woman they know. I was raised a fundamentalist Baptist in rural Michigan.
I joke with colleagues, drink martinis, listen to Elvis Costello.