It’s not the miles, it’s the memories

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By Bill Wundram | Sunday, April 06, 2008 |

THERE’S no fun riding through the franchised land of America when you can’t slow down to see the countryside, listen to people or feel giddy when a waitress ruffles your hair and calls you honey. She probably will scold you, too, for not ordering grits.

I recently traveled from the southland north to the Quads, living a life on concrete, trying to forget the bantering of presidential candidates, and how so many big financial institutions are greasy with greed.

I leisurely cruise, watching and listening to a nation’s soul, like the guy sitting on the curbing outside a Kangaroo Express gas station. He has taken off his shoes and socks and is rubbing his toes in the warm Florida sunlight, somewhere near Marianna. I ask what he thought of politicians.

“Put ’em all in a paper sack, shake ’em up, and all of ’em will come out the same,” he says. He digs into his blue jean pockets to pull out a handful of jellybeans, munching them while scratching his toes.

My spirit soars at the sights of springtime. There is a thrill in seeing the dogwood, its blossoms like popcorn on the hillsides. It is a good year for azaleas. They are spreading a deep pink in hedges and hedgerows. Spring is especially kind to the southland, and we can only hope that the mood spreads soon to Quad-City land.

We choose to escape the interstates when possible, traveling the side roads where a hand-lettered sign says, “Fresh Picked SWEET Strawberries.” The sweet is in all capital letters, as if all strawberries are not sweet. We are in the boiled peanut country. They are terrible-tasting niblets, but some people love them.

In this countryside, a sign is propped outside a little stand, “A hot dog for you in 1 and 1/3 minutes. A fellow on crutches is hitch-hiking while reading a paperback. I wave; he waves the book.

We stop at an O’Charley, one of our favorite dining spots, pleased to find a young brunette greeter opening the door for us to enter, and opening it again when we leave with the salutation, “Y’all come back.” Employees at a Tennessee Cracker Barrel all say, “Goodbye” when we depart. Employees are friendly, so talkative in the southland. At a Shoney’s, the server goes into some detail to tell us how she lost 20 pounds while recovering from pneumonia. Most servers call you “honey” or “sweetheart.”

EVEN THE ROAD SIGNS are happy. One, crossing the Swanee River (also spelled Suwanee) has notes from the song. It’s late afternoon; we get out and stretch at a rest stop and ask the security guard for advice on where to stay for the night. “Be careful. It’s Friday and that’s payday. Lots of cars on the road,” she says.

Whenever I travel, I’m struck by how much space there is to roam, and how unique all of it is. It is good to lay a hand on small towns like Cottondale, where I see no cotton, but buy a paper sack of pecans, which a vendor reminds are pronounced, “pea-kans.”

Roses for Charlie

Days before his death, 97-year-old Charlie Grayson was calling people taking orders for roses. He was the Davenport Kiwanis Club title holder for selling roses to help programs for kids. Since the late 1980s, Charlie has sold 2,500 dozen roses. Orders were to be in by April 15 this year; Charlie died a week ago today. His last rose order was for Tom and Barbara Douglas. There will, for sure, be dozens of roses at his visitation Monday at Weerts, and funeral Tuesday at Davenport’s First Presbyterian. If you want to order a bouquet to add to Charlie’s rosy record, call Paul Schnell at 323-8868.

Bill Wundram can be contacted at (563) 383-2249 or bwundram@qctimes.com.