Southern Stories…

Southerners are great storytellers. Some stories are autobiographical, some are biographical, some are, well, just "stories". Figuring out which one is which is the tricky but fun part. Obviously, the Brer Rabbit stories are a little of each. I heard a story this morning that caught me by surprise. I was at my veterinarian’s office talking to a woman who by her own account was born in the south and has traveled far and wide. She moved into a nice subdivision up north several years back and had a lovely African American neighbor with whom she was friendly. When her neighbor moved away, the rest of the neighbors discovered what she had known all along. Her lovely African American neighbor was the widow of Malcolm X. The neighbor’s daughter was a celebrity who’s holding company owned the home she lived in. I thought it was a great story until I read what happened to Malcolm X’s wife, Betty Shabazz. Her grandson torched her home and she later died as a result of burns suffered in the fire. This could have happened after she moved away but the time-line is a bit fuzzy. It is a great “story” and I enjoyed hearing it. I would hope that Mrs. X lived a lovely suburban life after her husband was gunned down by three members of the Nation of Islam. This is one of those times that a southern storyteller’s tale is probably autobiographical, biographical, and a story.

A native southerner and friend of mine told me about his service in the National Guard during the civil rights upheaval in Mississippi. He was one of the soldiers guarding James Meredith at the court ordered desegregation of the University of Mississippi in 1962. He described the scene in detail. The National Guard had guns but there were no bullets in them. The Governor of Mississippi, Ross Barnett, attempted to block Meredith's entrance. My friend's sympathies were not with the courts, they were with the governor. But he was there to keep the peace and serve his country. His story is autobiographical.

I was living in a small town in Georgia back in the 90s. On the way to go shopping, my husband and I passed through Lawrenceville, GA on the same day the Ku Klux Klan was demonstrating on the town square. The KKK was dressed in white sheets from head to toe and the state police were armed with rifles, shields, and batons. The KKK was facing the street with their backs to the government buildings located in the center of the square and the state police were ringed around the square facing the KKK. It looked as if they could begin a gunfight at any moment. (I thought the KKK might have had some guns stashed beneath their robes.) The traffic around the square was going very slowly and I was scared. I had read about the Klan and heard lots of stories but at that moment I was looking at one of the most feared organizations in the South. The holes they cut out of their hoods for their eyes and slits for their mouths made them appear truly evil. The KKK demonstration was peaceful that day. This story is definitely autobiographical.

I love hearing these stories. I will continue to check them out to see which ones are plausible. With a wealth of history dating back to the Civil War, I suspect all of my neighbors and friends have a story to tell. I’ll keep listening.