Before I could get both feet inside the door at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, a short woman wrapped her arms around me. It was a hug of love and family from a woman I had never met. Her name was Brenda and she was the greeter. Her cousin Wanda gave the tours that started in the basement where Martin Luther King Jr organized the Montgomery Bus Boycott. The waiting group stood next to the mural of Civil Rights leaders and a rack of T-Shirts that said, "Love Has No Color. One Race...Human Race."

I learned about 1954 after picking that year and reading headlines from the front page of every edition, from January through December, of The Clarion-Ledger, a Mississippi newspaper my family once owned.

My dad often tells me this about my childhood. He grew up with alcoholic parents, trying to step in when his dad hit his mother. He doesn’t share more than this so I didn't understand what he saw or appreciate the cycle he broke when he refused to drink or abuse his own wife and kids. As strong as my dad was, there were some things he couldn't protect me from.

Three little girls, none more than seven years old, splashed in the Mobile Bay and sang the verses and chorus of "Fight Song" as loud as they could. After the stories of domestic violence and abuse that I have heard over the last few months, I wanted to hug them, protect them and beg them to hang on to that song.

Last week was filled with meeting people searching for answers to tough questions and doing the best they can around Mobile.

I believe in road trips. The kind with no plan. No destination. Just a bag of shorts and t-shirts, the road and time. The ones that return you home a little changed by lessons learned.

A road trip can change your perception or remind you of the things that are good in our country. There are still people who flag you down because your tire is flat or small town policemen who pull you over to give directions because any out-of-towner must be lost. We sat next to old men fishing on the Ohio River, watching fireworks together on the third of July. They said fireworks on the river was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

Some of the saddest Souls interviews have been with women who got older, lost their identity as mothers and felt they became invisible to everyone but their friends. No one saw them for themselves anymore. What woman doesn't want to feel sexy or at least attractive no matter how old she is? There has to be a better way to get older.

Nita was Rod’s neighbor and watched him and his siblings while his mother worked at night. Nita was 18 and married. Rod was 14 and had been the man of the house since he was five years old. Not old enough for first grade, but old enough to help raise two younger brothers and sister after their mother kicked his father out and tossed his clothes out the door.

“His mother told me not to let them go outside, so they came into my apartment and I let them drink and smoke,” Nita said.

Larry works the gate at the Fairhope pier, charging $5 a person or $20 a car for the ones who don’t live in town. He makes every person who drives past his window laugh or smile and says he should be paying the city to let him work that window. The best part of his job is when people give in and play along. The ones who cuss or act insulted because they have to pay get a lesson in respect.

“Hillary is the boss and queen of our house and we do everything on her schedule.”