Episode One

I’m on my way back from North Carolina where I spent the weekend attending various Graduation related events, mostly involving huge meals and lots of talking. The graduate is my cousin Reid- cum laude in Political Science from Duke University. Congratulations Reid! I would spend the next few paragraphs detailing the weekend, but I pretty much already have. We came, we ate, we talked, we watched graduation- in the rain. Instead, I have decided to begin a two part mini-series based on true events in my family. Because Reid was the focus of the weekend, I began reflecting on my life with him as a very close cousin and the stories flooded my mind. And so I begin with

Keep Hope Alive: Episode One

*Disclaimer: actual dates and times may be incorrect due to my self diagnosed amateur Alzheimer’s.

The year was 1995. Myself, my brother, my father, my uncle, and my cousin Reid were on our way back from the Iron Bowl in Auburn. All five of us crammed into my uncle’s black Pontiac Bonneville. The glow of gameday magic still radiated from our being. I was squeezed into the middle seat in the back. Actually, it probably wasn’t much of a squeeze, I was a wee little lad. Tuckered out from the day’s excitement, I dozed off as the Bonneville cruised through the night air.

When I awoke, I was cold and there was no music on. Weird. I was told that the alternator was dead and we were slowly losing battery power. This message might as well have been delivered in Klingon, because at that age I had no idea what it meant. Soon, we would have to cut the headlights! Cool! Stealth mode! Wrong. One by one we were cutting the things that relied on battery power. Finally, the Bonneville would go no further. Of course, I began to worry. We’re going to freeze to death, or worse! We had reached Harpersville, the land of my grandfather. What a perfectly ironic place to perish; the land from whence we came.

We rolled the car into the parking lot of a Jack’s restaurant. It’s late. There is nobody there. In fact, there is nobody anywhere. I’ve never felt so alone. Sure, I was with four other people, but I’ve never felt so alone! Bear in mind, no cell phones yet. Our options were to hoof it to a phone and try to call someone, to try and thumb a ride, or to spend the night in the vessel that had betrayed us and hope we don’t die.

Ahoy! People! We spotted them in a hardware store across the street. We were saved! Death’s cold hand would not grasp us this time! One brave man among us walked across the street to greet our saviors- only to find that they were mannequins. We had been “saved” by a bunch of posers!
A chill traveled up my spine as I reeled in our reaffirmed doom. In a last ditch effort to save his crew, our captain walked across another street (we were at an intersection, a very treacherous and deadly intersection) to find some glimmer of hope for communication.

What seemed like hours passed as we waited. Perhaps he had been lost in the black mist. Oh wait, nope, here he comes in the passenger seat of a green pickup truck! The driver offered to take us home, all the way home! My uncle sat up front, the rest of us sat on firewood in the back of the truck as we rode through the night toward safety, toward home. This kind man took us all the way to our doorstep, about a thirty minute trip. I’m not sure where he was headed, but his benevolence surely saved all of our lives. At the very least, his actions on that fateful night reminded us all to…

Keep Hope Alive.