Yes, I really don't remember where we got those books written by Eugenia Price which I read during high school. The locale for those novels was St. Simons Island, Georgia, and gave a fictional treatment to the lives of the pioneer families who settled that area. You can't really tell from fiction who's who and what's what. To me it was a pleasant read but not really a reason to go there. And why would my fiction reading habits matter in the least? I cannot imagine why that would matter, just because one lady in the book gives her friend a beautiful crystal bird, which is almost the only thing I remember about that book.
Which reminds me that our maid during the year that we lived in Guadalajara, Mexico, was also named Eugenia. She had come from her hometown was a small town just north of Acapulco. I really don't know very much about her life later, just that she married there in Mexico and had two sons.
I really don't see much connection there. Eugenia just wasn't that important to me. Even so, these Mexicans are always finagling and conniving to get the most out of any white American connections they might have, regardless of how transient and tenuous. Too bad she wasn't lucky enough to marry an American politico from some hotshot powerful family. With a political husband attached to the U.S. presidency, can you imagine what she might be able to get for Mexican benefit? The sky is the limit I would imagine.
