Hunker Down With Kes: Off The Cuff, And Then Some

If you are looking for a witty, intriguing, plot-thickening story of the Old South, with a jaw-dropping ending…stop right here! And do yourself a favor. Move on to the column below. I don’t have a story in mind today.

But I have always wondered if an article could be written when you have absolutely nothing to say. Kinda like a no story, story. Just start with the first thing that pops into your head and go from there. No idea. No message. No real direction. No underlying innuendos. No hidden meaning in the fourth paragraph that would be indiscernible to everyone except Peggy Sue Blackman.

This is the last warning I will give you to jump out of this experiment!

Hamburgers are always on my mind. It started way back when I was a kid eating pinto beans and okra for supper one night, and corn and green tomatoes the next. Hamburgers were as scarce as hens’ teeth at our house for a fairly understandable reason; we couldn’t grow them in our garden.

I have written dozens of times about the rare delight of a City Café 40-cent hamburger in the days of my youth. The secret was to start with good beef and let the grease runneth (King James version) over. I classify those burgers to this day as, “A thing of beauty, and a joy forever.”

There are eateries now charging 15 dollars for one hamburger! I’d rather eat the beans and tomatoes! I understand cattle farmers have to make a living. We all know there are transportation and delivery costs. Excise taxes. Cooks and waiters get a cut. And the owner has a car payment like the rest of us.

But 15 bucks for one hamburger? It feels un-American to me. It’s enough to make you quit eating altogether. And please don’t pile a thousand French fries around it to make me think I’m the one breaking even….

How come it was Leon sitting beside me eating beans and not Karen Webb? They were both the same age. With just a nod from God, she could have been my older sibling. She lived just a few houses down the street. God would not have had to switch them all the way across the country.

I would have an older sister. And Billy Webb would get a younger brother. It makes perfect sense to me. Leon couldn’t order me around. Make me mow the yard. Carry his books to school. I had to swim across the Obion River once and retrieve a baseball he had flung to the other side just “to see if it could be done.”

Karen was about perfect in every respect. She was gentle as a lamb. And beautiful. And most importantly, she would fuss at Leon if he was taking advantage of me. Good golly, an older sister who was always on your side….

I’m going to ask God about that one day.

Of course, if Leon hadn’t been placed in our family, you would never have heard of me because I would have run out of story ideas 30 years ago!

And remember, it was Leon who made the second most profound statement I’ve ever heard. When Mom was fussing at him for his low English grade in high school, he assured her, “I already know more English than I’m using now.”

Before you ask, Will Rogers once wrote, “Everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects.” Nothing tops that!

Will’s words lingered on my mind when I was pondering on just how to turn an education into a productive career. My maturity was still in question (in my own mind) when the principal of Port St. Joe High School called and asked me to come to Florida. I said no.

Until no one else called. And I gave everyone plenty of time. And then waited some more….

I do not know to this day if I chose to teach school in Florida. Or if a classroom in Florida chose me. But I would not trade the experiences I’ve had with anyone else in the world…well, except maybe Arnold Palmer or Clint Eastwood. I’m being silly here; I can’t play golf or act. Arnold and Clint would have to get along without me.

But that does bring up an intriguing proposition. If I’m not me, if I chose a different sibling, another occupation, to be somebody other than who I am, think of the people I don’t meet in my life. Like my first wife. Or Loretta Lynn and Carl Perkins. Or Buddy and Yogi. Or the girl from Cottage Grove who when introduced to me said, “You don’t look much like a baseball player.”

Everyone needs a slice of humble pie now and again.

Maybe the grass is not greener on the other side. Maybe we have it better than we might think. Maybe God knows more about us, and who our older brother needs to be, than we do.

There is absolutely no story here today. But as Will Rogers might say, there is a bit to chew on….

Respectfully,

Kes

Kesley45@aol.com