The southern heat hit me as I got off the train. It must have been 115 degrees. A wet 115 degrees. Northerners like me don’t do that kind of heat. It felt like the sun was visiting Virginia and came via the sewer.
I was down there for business a few days ago. A small town. Real small. When I got off the train I didn’t know which direction to walk. I spotted a man sitting on the bench inside the station. I call it a station but it’s not really a station. It’s more like they put a roof on top of the place where the train stops.
The man I asked for directions had a big belly, perfectly parted gray hair, and a furry mustache. If you were making a movie about an old time Southern lawyer, this was your guy. He looked out the window for a moment and then gave me perfect directions. I mean, he didn’t just tell me how to get to the street. He told me about the street. Everything he knew about it. And he told me everything about the things that if I saw, it would mean I’d gone too far. And then in case I did go too far he gave me directions from the possible places where I might get lost.
August 1, 2011 at 2:25 pm
Great post!
August 1, 2011 at 5:25 pm
I'd say something clever about this post, but I'm too busy forwarding it to everyone I know
KB
August 1, 2011 at 5:34 pm
Bravo! You have captured the soul of the South, and the essence of kindness toward your neighbor.
August 1, 2011 at 7:51 pm
“Be pitiful, for every man is fighting a hard battle,” — Ian Maclaren (John Watson) 1897.
pitiful, A. adj. 1. Full of or characterized by pity; compassionate, merciful, tender. Now rare. — OED
August 3, 2011 at 7:35 am
I live in the north, but I grew up in south georgia. I really miss the people in the south sometimes. Thanks for sharing.