"Chapter One"

1. A Slice of Southern Life

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The fast-lane of life is not one I cotton to or gravitate towards. I was born and raised in the South, where the vernacular pace of life is generally slower, especially in what are often referred to as ‘sleepy little towns’. I imagine that as appealing as that way of life is, many of us find ourselves in ‘frenetic mode’ coping with day to day life that at times feels like it’s beyond our control. Living ‘la vida loca’ in the Rat Race we have come to accept as the norm.

How refreshing it is, then, to consciously choose to slow Life down multiple gears, to not set plans or agendas, and when traveling to take the road less traveled and ignore time. This story is about just that…and about how close I came to having my coffee shoot through my nose.

Can’t remember this sleepy town setting to save my life. Heck, I’m doing well to peg it in the early to mid 1980’s, as I had recently graduated from The University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. I was wandering somewhere in what was in, or close to, the Low Country of South Carolina, where oak trees are draped in chigger-filled Spanish moss and everyone takes their own sweet time going about their days. I would add ‘nights’, too, but nightlife in such places is limited pretty much to owls and ‘possums, and the occasional neighbor’s cat.

I was merely casually passing through, en route to some coastal location, purposefully off the main thoroughfares. The time, something around 10am..on a Tuesday, no less. Can’t remember the place or the year, but I can sure tell you the day. Needing that forever important bathroom pit stop, I saw a Hardee’s on my right just ahead.

Keep in mind this was no 6-lane road of strip malls and pop-up storefronts…just your wide tree-lined residential street, with a corner area zoned for businesses and a 35mph speed limit. A quaint and perfect location, well-timed, I mused…and heaven forbid I pass up the opportunity for a buttery biscuit ! That, with strawberry jelly, and a cup of coffee to wash it down, added up to four good reasons to pull in.

Pretty much your run-of-the-mill fast food joint, this one…the morning ‘rush’ was long past, such that it must be in this 2-horse town (there were a few stoplights as I remember). The counter wait was non-existent, and with my food I grabbed the donated day’s paper and had a seat in a Formica-skinned booth.

In describing the scene, I’m arbitrarily assigning the names “Joe” and “Bill” to the two seated retirees that brought the dining area population to 3. Joe was in the middle of the room across from me, facing out toward the large plate glass windows that fronted the quiet main street.

With his back to the very same window sat Bill, the distance between the two created by a couple of empty tables. I was merely the proverbial fly on the wall, and for a minute or so there was just a peaceful silence. Each of us had our coffee and breakfast item at some stage of consumption, biding time. Bill was the first to speak (and in a good ol’ drawl, I might add)…

“You been to that new Food Lion ‘cross town?

(pause)

It’s right nice.

(pause)

Big aisles, I like that…”

Pause.

Joe answered in an equally low-key sloth-like cadence.

“Nope, ain’t got there, yet,

(pause)

But I aim to.

(pause)

Thought I’d get a pie there and take it over to Peggy.

(pause).

A real shame about Harold

(pause)

but he had been so sick.

(pause)

One of those blessings, I guess…”

Joe was half-staring, half thinking as he looked down at the steam rising from his coffee.

Small talk. An iconic small town trait, where a lot is said though few words are spoken...or equally argued where very little is said though a lot is spoken. Pregnant pauses abounded. I was simply being the detached, curious observer as I only lightly scanned the local news I knew nothing about.

This was also back in the days where smoking was allowed in such chain food joints. Bill’s cigarette sat more in the ashtray than in his hand, with the smoke curling upward in it's own slow-motion existence. He would look left a bit…then right…then look at his coffee and take a sip…

“I liked that sermon Sunday, “ Bill said.

(pause)

“That new preacher is alright.

(pause)

Fits right in.”

Pause.

“Yep.”

Pause.

As a reminder, I was born and raised in the South. I don’t have to make this stuff up, nor could I. Moments like this happen like clockwork…

Bill drew on his cigarette and let out a slow, steady smoke trail from the corner of his mouth…..

“You been to vote yet?”

Big pause.

“Naw…”

Bigger pause.

“Ain’t had no time to, yet.”

The coffee I was preparing to swallow came nigh close to exiting through my nostrils…

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At that very moment, time froze for me. The setting, the scene, the environment, the timing…and the beautiful irony of those last words. To this day that story stands tall in my memory and brings a smile to my face.

Knowing how most countrified folk are, as I’m of similar ilk, we tend to get up with the rooster and go down with the sun…and here, through this drawn-out exchange, is a genuine sense of not having enough time to do something. Heck, ‘Joe’ could have voted twice in the time he spent sitting in his own little world that showed no signs of accelerating through the day. His choice, of course.

Am I preaching to the choir, here? Do we not control our perceptions about situations and time/timing and opportunity? Every second of every day we do, but too many of us are guilty of plodding through our waking hours as unconscious robots, automatically going through ‘accepted’ routines with no second thought.

Becoming consciously ‘aware’ and ‘awake’ are critical if we truly want to accept one of Life’s greatest gifts: the power and freedom to make choices. It is through that very power of choice that each of us can truly create our own reality. Unless, of course, we choose not to. A choice in itself.

When I think of 'perceptions' and 'choices', it reminds me of a greeting card I once saw...

Some see a glass as half full. Some see the same glass as half empty. Mothers see that glass as being yet another reminder that someone was too damned lazy not to take it to the sink and put it in the dishwasher!