Old South

Life in the rural south is different than life in the city south.
Obviously, this is true anywhere, but we notice it more in the south
because so much of this way of life is different to us and it is
magnified in rural areas.

The race issue has been clarified here in Alabama, at least to my
satisfaction. People are generally rude when they don’t have any money,
and no job and you come around and look at them. Doesn’t seem to matter
what color they are, or for that matter, probably what color you/we
are. There are many more black people here in Montgomery than we
encountered in Georgia and any sense of prejudice seems to me to be a
socio-economic thing. Since more black people are poor than white, it
appears to be race, but I don’t think so. If I lived in the poverty we
see here, I’d be a little peevish, too. I find it very offensive to see
newspaper pictures of the Talbot ladies raising money to send to
Africa.

We spent some time at the Civil Rights Memorial between Selma and
Montgomery. They have a very powerful display of photographs and quotes
following an award-winning film of the march and events leading up to
it. It was extremely moving. I felt so awful and emotional I wanted to
hug the old black couple going through with us, and ask for
forgiveness. I’m sort of glad to be the age I am. Being a bleeding
heart liberal white woman doesn’t seem so insufferable when you’re old.
I hope.

Dave looked up a bike club in Montgomery and recognized the name of a
guy he rode with when he rode the length of the Mississippi. Nice guy
named Mike Monk. We had dinner with Mike and his wife Barbara and
enjoyed talking with them. Dave rode last Saturday with a really nice
bunch Mike hooked him up with.

One of the few things we miss as full time RVers is conversation with
people we share a history with. You probably don’t realize it, but
writing these “How we be” letters is very important to me in that it
allows me to share, to maintain the connection we have with our
friends. You all think you don’t write back often, but there are about
30 of you we send this letter to, and almost all of you send a note
every now and then. It’s more than enough to make us feel connected,
and for that we are very grateful.

Montgomery is “unseasonably hot.” It was 86 degrees again today; had to
turn on the A/C. They usually have afternoon rains here but are at only
50% of their usual wetness. All the spring flowers are out. The
Wisteria grows wild, climbing trees and looking like the tropical
Jacaranda trees. The rural area outside Montgomery is stunningly
beautiful, meadows full of Charlois beef, little houses tucked in the
trees, occasional mansions set on green hilltops. Lots of wildflowers
in the ditches.

We found another great eatery: Jeter’s Diner in Shorter, Alabama. I had
chicken wings, HUGE wings and the best chicken I’ve had in 40 years or
so. I know they deep fry them but even the grease was good! Actually,
it didn’t taste greasy, it tasted clean and fresh. (For all I know,
Mrs. Jeter killed them out back after we ordered ….) Dave ordered a
pork chop sandwich and we were astonished when it arrived. It was a
very large pork chop, bone and all, and two square slices of sandwich
bread. We scored a little ketchup and Davey cowboyed up, cut the bone
out and slapped it together. Said it was real good, too.

We were in line at a small post office recently, behind an old guy who
stepped up to the clerk and said, “Is Martha here?” “No,” the clerk
said, “She’s off today.” “Hmmm,” said the old guy, leaning over the
counter, “I was in here yesterday and Martha was off then, too.” The
clerk, startled, said “Martha was off yesterday?” “Yeah,” the old guy
confided, “Just a little bit.”

We just roared! The old guy gave us a little sideways grin, very low
key. It was so perfect, must have pleased him. Yeah, I know, I’ll send
it to Reader’s Digest.

Speaking of good laughs, I was talking to my 92-year-old mother the
other day. We were on the road and I was describing the flowers in
Alabama to her. All of a sudden traffic stalled and sirens screamed and
I mentioned the crime and violence in this State. My mother thought I
said “climbing violets” and that’s when it got funny ….

Hope it’s spring where you are.

Love,

Sam

Musings from Dave:

Greeting from the land of the Happy Dumpsters. Ours even has a saucy
tilt to his lid. And . . . . you don’t judge southern eateries by their
exteriors. Excellent seafood at the Oyster Bar.

D.