By Susan Harper
Mary Frances Bowlan was my parents’ next-door neighbor. Already in residence when they built their house, she was over there like a shot with one of her divine chicken pot pies to welcome them to the neighborhood. And, as often happens in Commerce, it turned out that the three of them were distantly related to each other, though they became closer as friends than they were as kin.
My dad called Mary Frances “Honey Chile” — I suppose because she was so petite — and for as long as he was able, he leapt out of his chair whenever she appeared at the front door, and said, “Hello there, Honey Chile! Come in this house!” It always made her laugh, and she had the cutest little laugh.