September 2010
I had the most wonderful time traveling through Tennessee…from Tupelo where I stopped to see the one room shack the future King of Rock and Roll, Elvis, was born in…onward to Shiloh National Monument Park to tour the battlefields where 10,000 Confederate and 13,000 Union soldiers died in a 2 day battle in April of 1862…and then down a back road toward Corinth, Mississippi where I came upon the town of Michie, TN. I was to learn that it had a population of “40, give or take…and some niggers up on Nigger Hill.”
As I rounded the curve of the narrow 2 lane road, sheltered by a canopy of green, a cemetery came into view on my left. It was dressed out in bright colorful flowers. Small American flags had been placed at many of the head stones and hung limply in the hot humid air. Next to the cemetery was the Primitive Baptist Church. Time to stop and take a picture.
Stepping out of the car I cased the location for the shot I wanted to capture. I also noticed men sitting out front of a building across the road. Our view of one another was somewhat obstructed by a large tree in the churchyard. As I continued on my photo quest the eyes in the back of my head were also observing the men twisting and turning in their chairs to get a clearer look at me. I got the picture I wanted and returned to the car.
Steering my Camry back onto the road I glanced to my right as I drove by the 3 men who had been watching me. They were gathered, their chairs in a circle, at a service station minus its gas pumps. A 4th man was peering out from the one stall garage, air hose in his hand. They looked at me…I looked at them…eye contact was made and I pulled back off the road and parked in front of the diner next to the garage. Before getting out of the car I filled my pocket with quarters from the change canister in the glove box. As I retreated from the car and made my way to meet the men I saw a yellow police tape strung across the diner's front porch. I smiled. This was going to be an interesting conversation. Withh that in mind I walked over and greeted the men with “Anyone want a soda ?”, as I stepped to the pop machine and selected the Dr. Pepper button.
“Just finished one. No thanks”, said one of the men. “Have a seat.”
All the chairs were taken. I nearly beamed as I broke the circle on my way to the open door of the office where I grabbed a chair and carried it out to join them.
“How ya doin,” I said, as I placed the chair with my back to the roadway, popped the top of my Dr. Pepper and settled into the gathering.
The guy to the left of me said, “What’s the license plate on your car there? I couldn’t see it to well.”
“Minnesota,” I said with a pride that surprised me. “Traveling to Foley, AL to see an old navy buddy and then on to Florida.
"Minnesota huh? I was in Minneapolis once. Been meaning to go back up there again. They got a lot of lakes there.”
“Yes it does. ‘The Land of 10,000 Lakes.’ And they have kept counting. They’re up to 15,000 now. Beautiful country. You got yourself a beautiful place here in Tennessee too.”
“Not much happening here”, said the fellow sitting across from me. “Retired folks mostly.”
“I’m trying to retire myself,” I said with a grin. “But it seems retiring is a hard thing to do.”
The man to my right smiled and laughed. “Yep,” he said. “It can take some doin.”
“So,” I offered. You guys are retired?”
To The Left of Me replied, “I was a trackman on the railroad for 40 years. And this here fella, pointing to his left, kinda worked.”
“I was a conductor,” he quickly offered, as he threw a look at his friend.
To The Left of Me shrugged. “I guess you can call that working.”
“I thought about trying to get a conductor job once,” I offered in defense of Across From Me. “It seems that they don’t open up very often.”
Across From Me said, “Nope. You either like the job or you don’t. Most do."
“And what did you do for a living?,” I asked To The Right of Me.
“I worked in a plastic’s factory nearby here,” he replied quietly. “Good to be done now.”
Now sitting between To The Left of Me and Across From Me was the fellow who owned the station. The others called him Horace. He kept looking around impatiently.
“I’m still working and I got things to do,” he said as he looked at me and headed into the garage where he busied himself moving tires around and fussing with the air compressor.
“Say,” I began. “That Primitive Baptist Church across the road. Do they have some different beliefs from other Baptist churches?”
To The Left of Me said, “I hear tell they do some foot washing.”
Across From Me said, “Maybe. But they only go to church once a month and then they stay there all day. They bring their food from home and eat together and such.”
To The Right of Me perked up. “I’m a Baptist, Southern Baptist, and the pastor travels to other churches in the area too.”
“Hey, I’m an ordained Southern Baptist minister,” I said with delight. I got a skeptical, but polite look from Across From Me. To The Left of Me let out a low ‘hmmm.’
I was dressed in cargo shorts, sandals, a black tee shirt and a sporty short sleeve black shirt with a vertical design through it. And then there were the small silver hoop earrings, 1 in each ear, and the tattoo on my left forearm. The cigarette was nearly finished.
“Yep. I went to seminary in San Francisco. I was a Home Missionary on skid row in San Francisco and I was pastor of an inner city church in Philadelphia, PA. But I left Southern Baptists in 1988 and moved to Minnesota."
“What did you do there?”, To The Left of Me asked.
“I was a social worker.”
Quiet fell over the group.
I then noticed the white Chevy parked on the other side of the station. It had a Sheriff’s star on the driver’s door.
“I was a volunteer police chaplain in St. Paul for 11 years too. I spent a lot of time riding around in squad cars. I really enjoyed the time with the police officers. Whose car is that over there?”
“Horace's", said To The Left of Me. “Until yesterday anyways. He just got voted out. He arrested a fella a while back and the family was mad about it. They got their money together and put it behind a friend of theirs so Horace isn’t Constable anymore. He was getting too old anyway.”
Happily conversation continued for about another 30 minutes. We talked church history. Across From Me liked the Methodists and To The Left of me liked Martin Luther. To the Right of Me remained quiet, but respectful of the other’s opinions.
I offered up a short lesson to To The Left of Me on the development of Lutheranism, Luther being married to a nun after he left the Catholics (they all liked that), and the impact of Wesley and Methodism on 19th century England and America. They seemed sincerely interested.
Our visiting moved on to the state of our current economy. We all agreed it sucked. To The Left of Me also added that people in town were either living on a pension or welfare. At which point I learned that he wasn’t sure what the niggers up on Nigger Hill did for money.
“I guess they has a pension?” he queried.
The others didn’t seem to know either.
"I’m not sure if a 'pension' includes social security benefits or not. I don’t have either so I guess I’m down a few rungs from those other folk’s up on the hill," I said. I then asked about the diner next door.
To The Left of Me said, “They had a fire in there yesterday. The inside is damaged pretty bad. They have really good food in there. And it’s clean too.”
I told them I was sorry to hear that as I would really have liked to try it out.
As things began to wind down I told them I should probably get back on the road.
“I think I’ll stop for lunch in Corinth,” I said. They all agreed that that was probably a good idea.
“You might want to visit some of those museums they have down there too,” said Across From Me.
“Yep,” the other two said. “See some interesting things about the war there.”
“Ok,” I said. “I’ll look into that. Thanks.”
And then I took new courage and said, “Fellas, how about I take a picture of you sitting out front here?” I continued quickly as I felt some opposition to the idea.
“I bet you don’t have a picture of you guys sitting together out here, do you?”
To The Left of Me began to smile shyly and said, “You know, that would be ok.”
So I headed over to the car to get my camera. On the way I poked my head into the garage and told Horace what I was up to and invited him to join us.
“Now that’s a good idea,” he said with a big smile. “I’ll join you.”
As I grabbed he camera I spied a plastic container of oatmeal-raisin cookies I had purchased at Cub Foods in Minnesota. I took 4 cookies out of the container and left them on the front passenger seat. I returned to the circle with the container of cookies, encouraging Horace as I walked past him to “come on now for the picture.”
Across From Me was beginning to get a bit nervous and began to stand up. “No,” I said quickly. “Don’t be moving around now. Just sit there like you do day by day.” He sat back down.
“Here, have a cookie,” I said as I tried to hand him the container.
“No thanks,” he said. To The Left of Me and To The Right of Me also declined.
But Horace reached out his hand and said, “I’m not allowed cookies, but I think I’ll have me one. Thanks.”
I stepped back, focused the camera and got the shot.
“Now,” I said. “I’ll need the address to send the copies to.” Looking to Horace I asked, “What’s your address here, buddy?”
“Send it to Horace Sanders c/o Michie, Tennessee.”
I looked at the other men and asked their names.
To The Left of Me said, “Barry.”
Across From Me said, “Victor.”
To The Right of Me said, “Gary.”
“And what are your social security numbers?” I asked with a dead pan expression fixed on my face...and then a smile.
They all laughed and Gary said, “And what’s your name?”
“Steven De Bernardi” I replied, as I offered him my hand for a handshake.
And with that the men and I said our “goodbye”. They further offered “Have a safe trip. Enjoy looking around Corinth some.”
So back to the car I went…settled in…and pulled back onto the roadway with a wave and toot of the horn.
I did so enjoy the chat and the opportunity to offer some, even if cloaked, of my own perspective on the state of the union in Michie, TN. I will get the picture to them in the mail shortly.
