Tom Jenkins Goes Looking

Tom Jenkins was just taking a slow (literally) drive back to his parents past. He

left Interstate 65 around Georgiana, heading north west on little farm to market

roads, county roads and little trails. He was looking for something that he thought

was long gone in this country.



His parents had lived all of their lives as young people in a now long gone hamlet

called Goodshoe. In the early 1800’s a blacksmith and cobbler, from South

Carolina, set up shop in a fork in the road that in that day until the early 1950’s was

highly traveled. They called their shop Goodshoe. They first, with the help of

some of Creek Indians from a settlement nearby, felled trees and cleared a site

large enough for their shop and two houses for their families that were still in

South Carolina, awaiting word to start their journey to join their men.

The little hamlet never had more than 1,000 people at its peak in the 1940’s during

World War II. In fact it was about 1946, when the baby-boomers birthing began to

hit America and all of the returning service personnel either hooked up with their

high school sweethearts or brought a “Mrs.’s” home to Mom, Dad and good ole’

Goodshoe.



Nevertheless, like many towns in America in that day, the old song, “how are you

going to keep them down on the farm, after they have seen Pariee” became their

funeral dirge. And Tom Jenkins’ parents were two of the many American’s that

left the old home place for bigger and better places and more money.

Tom had vague recollections of that type of life. They had made visits until both

sets of grandparents had passed away. He was grown now, having been raised in

Mobile, to the south. There were no towns around Mobile that retained that small

turn of the century air. There were some in Baldwin County, across the Mobile

Bay or the Bay of the Holy Spirit as the original Spanish explorers called it. But

now that area between New Orleans and Pensacola was almost one metropolitan

area. At any rate, even the small retreats are less than 30 minutes from a Wal-

Mart, multitude of churches instead of just 2 or 3, Waffle House’s, and multiplex

cinemas. And now with cable and satellite television bringing the outside world

into the very depths of the glens and valleys of the south, there was probably no

bastion of small town life anywhere.



But Tom was about to get a rude awakening. As he drove down the road, he

suddenly became very sleepy. He found a wide spot in the shoulder that looked

like it was an entrance to a fire road. (Fire Roads are cut into the numerous forest

plots in the south, to allow fire personnel in to fight forest fires.) He turned off the

car, locked doors and closed his eyes. In what seemed like minutes, he woke to

sunlight in his face. Attempting to start the car, a refurbished 1957 Chevy, it only

shuddered. It was his special love. He and his son had spent many an hour

working on it. That really produced a bonding that he needed with his then tenyear-

old offspring. Some of the parts they had used were new. Nevertheless,

because of the age of the car, they had to use mostly used parts. He hoped it was a

minor glitch. He left a note on the windshield, stating that he was walking north on

the road to find help. After about 45 minutes, he comes upon a sign that made him

stop in his tracks. It said Goodshoe – Pop. but the figure denoting how many folks

were still there was worn off. But he thought Goodshoe had died. But there before

him was a small town, complete with a church, a town hall, a few stores, several

houses and a restaurant/café. He turned toward the café, needing a cup of coffee

bad. Walking in he noticed two older gentlemen sitting in a booth in the corner by

a window, the only customers, except for him now. He later learned their names

were Hubert Tucker and Arnold Jones.



They stopped their conversation to size him up. A petite red head waitress came

from out behind the kitchen door. Smiled at him and asked him what she could do

for him. He said “coffee please”. She poured it and said “passing through”; then

added, “well of course you are. Nobody comes here to stay.’ Tom says, “I thought

this place had died”. Margie Jones, Arnold’s Daughter, who was the waitress and

community information center, says “it just about has”. Tom asks, “how long have

you been here”. “That is too personal to answer, as I was born here. Probably one

of the last babies to be born here before the clinic closed. So that would tell you

how old I am, and I am not ready to tell anyone that.”

“Oh, Margie, everybody knows you are 45.” “They do now Hubert.” Everybody

chuckles.



Tom then asks the men if there was a mechanic left in town. He told them that his

car would not start; and that he had left it back down the road. The other man,

Arnold, said “wouldn’t you know it”. The one day in 10 years that Bucky

Wheeler takes a day off to go fishing and somebody needs him. “Mr. we can get

your car towed to the shop, but it won’t be fixed until tomorrow.”, Hubert said.

“Well where can I stay, I don’t see any soft chairs in here,” Tom asked. “Hmm,

that’s a good question,” replied Arnold. Margie chimed in and said “remember,

Miss Clara, used to run her home as a bed n’ breakfast. I bet she would let him

stay.” “I’ll call her and see what she says”. Hubert begins to wonder again about

this fellow that has sauntered into their town. Not that it mattered; they were going

to help him anyway, because that is what they do.



“Mister, I still don’t remember what you said when we asked you why you were

here.” Hubert continued. “I don’t believe you really asked.” Tom said “But well

that’s simple; my folks were Tom and Henrietta Jenkins. Mother was a Pierce,

before she married Dad. And they were from Goodshoe. Arnold said, “There was

some Jenkins around here at one time.” And Hubert said, “I remember some

Pierce’s too”. “Well I am probably related to them, because I was born in the

clinic that Margie mentioned, according to my folks and my birth certificate”, Tom

went on. “But really, I thought the town had died completely.” Tomstated. “Well,

it has almost, compared to what it was even ten years ago.” Margie said. “Twenty

years ago, we had two banks and two grocery stores. We are down to one bank, a

general store, a couple of clothing stores and a bakery.”

“Well, well,” Margie muses, Sounds like old home week. We have not talked this

much history since old man Bruester died.” “But don’t worry; we would have

helped you anyway; whether you had roots here or not.” “And Miss Clara says she

would love to have you.” “And I called Louie Anderson, down at the shop and he

is going to stop by here to get your key and tow your car in. It’s probably safe out

there, but at least it will be here when Bucky gets back.”

A little more historical chatter from Arnold and Hubert keeps everyone’s attention,

until Louie Anderson pulls up, in his wrecker, and comes in looking for the key.

Tom hands it over and realizes he has no doubts about doing it. Back home, he

would have wanted to ride out on the wrecker, but not here. He had all the

confidence in the world that Louie would handle his car and belongings as if they

were his own.



After watching Louie drive off, Arnold told him, he would take him to Miss

Clara’s. It was just down the street and around the corner. As they left the Café,

Tom noticed a few more people dotting the streets and entering some of the stores

and the bank that were still open. He asked Arnold, “How many people still live

here”? Arnold started to rub his chin and said, “Well that depends”. “Depends on

what; the day of the week is”, Tom retorted. “No, No, it depends on whether you

count the people that actually live within the town limits or all the people in our

‘suburbs’. Arnold Chuckled. “No to be straight with you; there are about 50

people or so that show up for town meetings, court, church or what-have-you.”.

It took about a five-minute leisurely walk to get to Miss Clara’s. She stood on her

porch in faded purple gingham dress and an apron. She looked like she could have

been a younger sister to one of his folks. After a few cordial greetings, Arnold

excused himself and walked back toward the main street of town. And Tom and his

new found friend, Miss Clara, sat on the porch, gently rocking the morning away.

Small talk peppered their watching of the town’s people moving by, a long and

almost lost southern tradition.



In about thirty minutes, Louie drove up, towing Tom’s car. Tom went out and

took out an overnight bag and some hanging clothes. He also had a briefcase with

some pictures and documents he thought might be useful in his sojourn. Tom

offered to pay Louie, but he refused. He said that he makes enough around the

garage.



Tom was not sure, exactly what it was he wanted to find or see. Nevertheless, he

knew that he really wanted to find, if just for a few moments, the “rest” of a small

town. Contemplating Louie’s refusal of the money; made him think that he might

have at least found that. Additionally, since his mom had passed away, about a

year after his Dad, he had a gnawing desire to find his roots. That is why he drove

north toward where he had remembered Goodshoe was. He was still in a slight

state of shock, finding it still (for lack of a better word) functioning. “Maybe this

is what it was all about.” Tom mused.



Tom went upstairs and freshened up. Miss Clara had also refused to take any

money for his room and board. She said that it was a delight to have him there and

looked forward to talking more with him about his parents. She said that she had

some pictures from the period that they were living there. And maybe they could

be in them.



Tom did not want to sponge off of Miss Clara anymore than he felt like he had to;

due to the fact she would take no money for his stay or eating with her. So he told

her he wanted to walk around and get a little atmosphere. Although he wasn’t very

hungry, however, his Dad had told him that the local eatery of a small town is a

good place to meet people, especially around lunch. Therefore, he went in to the

Café and sat down at the counter. He twisted around on the stool to check out who

was there. Over in corner were Hubert and Arnold. This time they were playing

checkers. He told Margie to put some coffee at his place at the counter. He

walked over, spoke to Hubert, and thanked Arnold for his help this morning.

Hubert asked, “How are you liking our little town”? Tom said “he was trying to

slow his system and internal clock down, so he could soak it all in.”



He walked back over to the counter and told Margie that he would eat later, but he

just wanted to meet some more people when they came in. With a big gleam in her

eye and a smile on her face, she said she would love to introduce him to any and

everybody. The first one she wanted him to meet was her boss and cook. Ralph

Thompson had owned the little café for nearly 45 years; having bought it from his

uncle in the early ‘60’s. This was right after he had graduated from high school.

Ralph had worked for his uncle all through middle and high school. He had

mopped the floors, carried out the garbage and bussed the tables. And when it

looked like he might buy the business his uncle taught him how to cook “good and

fast”.



Ralph came around from the back, wiping his hands on a greasy stained apron. He

held out his hand to Tom after he had finished wiping it. After a little conversation,

they realized that he had been raised in Tom’s old house. Tom remember that he

and his family had moved to Mobile in1951; but he had been a toddler, being born

in 1946, right after his parents had been married. They must have sold their house

to Ralph’s family. Now Ralph is living in it. He invited him to come by and take a

look at it. Tom said “he would love to.”



Tom then asked Ralph what was good on the menu. He said it was all good. But

he had a lot of pot roast, with new potatoes, green beans, green salad and a piece of

apple pie, because it was the special for today. Tom said he “never had heard of

pie being on the daily special.” Well it was special for him. He wanted him to eat

it and it was on the house. Tom said, “He would a little later, but he wanted to pay

for it.” Ralph told him, “Your money is no good here.”



Tom could not get over how accommodating everyone was. Nevertheless, this was

exactly how his mom and dad had described the old rural south.

During the “lunch rush” which was not very hectic at all, Margie bounced around

the Café, introducing Tom to all the folks. She did it as if he was a long lost

brother. As Tom mingled with the townspeople, he found two women that were

probably cousins, once or twice removed. (What ever that means?)



During this welcoming program, extended to him, he met the Mayor. He was also

the Magistrate, Ronald J. Perkins. However, try as they might, even with the same

last name, they could not figure out how they were related. Nevertheless, they

knew they must be from such a small town.



The Mayor was also an attorney. However, about all he had to handle were wills,

probate, land and property sales, and occasionally mediated civil disputes.

But tonight was to be the highlight of the week’s entertainment in Goodshoe.

Moreover, the Mayor was the principal player. As the Magistrate of the

community, he holds court every Tuesday night. There is a one-man police force.

Peter Weise is the sole protector of Goodshoe. However, there is not much

protection needed. Traffic problems are at a minimum. There is not even a traffic

light in the small hamlet. Chief Weise goes to work about 3:00 PM and works to

about 3:00 AM. Even though they do not have any crime in Goodshoe, national

crime statistics indicate that most crime is committed after dark up until 2 or 3

AM. He was also the prosecutor of the cases that he does have to bring before the

court.



Bruce Farmer is a semi – retired attorney. He was originally from Goodshoe, but

moved to Montgomery after law school and practiced there. He also had worked

in the several state agencies there at the capital. When he came back home to

Goodshoe he volunteered to represent defendants that needed help with their cases.

However, again, there is not much crime in Goodshoe, but some infractions do

occur, people are the same all over the world. As such, we all make mistakes or

get angry and do stupid things.



Tom promised He would be there for the evening’s entertainment. About 3:00 PM

He walked back to Miss Clara’s. On the way, Chief Weise stopped him. He got

out of his car, extending his hand greeting Tom like a long lost friend. He was. It

turns out that Peter had also grown up in Mobile. There paths had crossed briefly

when they both went to Davidson High School. Somewhere in the back of his

mind, Tom thought he remembered him. However, he thought he was dead. He

was a police officer, after high school. But he had been killed in a traffic accident,

while chasing a fleeing felon. But he couldn’t have been, here he is. They chatted

for a few minutes and promised to see each other tonight in court.



As he was walking back to Miss Clara’s, he suddenly remembered he had not

called his wife. The kids were grown and gone. And she was suffering the empty

nest syndrome. Not that he wasn’t when he was there. But she was taking it very

hard, since the boy that had helped him with the ’57 Chevy had left for the Army.

He was the baby. And now he was gone. They had put one through college and

one through a vocational course in welding. Both of those were married and the

college boy and his wife was expecting their first grandchild. So he pulled out his

cell phone and noticed that there was no signal. He walked back to where Peter

was standing and asked him where he thought he could get a signal. Peter looked

at the cell phone and said, “What is that?” Tom replied “a cell phone”. “A what?”

Peter shot back. Tom could not believe that a Chief of Police of any place did not

know what a cell phone was. But he just passed it off. But there were now several

things now that were not adding up. And the lack of telephones and people did not

know what a cell phone was.



Arriving back at Miss Clara’s, she asked him if he preferred hot or iced tea. He

said iced would be nice. In a few minutes, she brings out iced tea for him and hot

tea for herself. She also brought out some cookies and ladyfinger cakes she had

backed while he was wandering around town. Tom asked her if he could use her

phone to call his wife. She said that it was only a local phone. The town had no

long distance service anymore. This really “blew his mind”. He knew his wife

was going to be worried to death. But he decided he would handle that problem in

the morning. He was here to learn about his roots.



He then went upstairs and retrieved his briefcase. He brings out his pictures and

she does the same. They talk about various people that are in the pictures. She

then says that she remembers his parents. She then produced a picture of the three

of them at a now closed ice cream soda fountain. Miss Clara had married a year

after his parents. While they had not been close friends, anythey sort of drifted

apart after her marriage. She would go on the road with her husband, truck

driving. And it was not until his death in a truck – car accident, did she settle back

into life at Goodshoe. She purchased the house where they were seated, talking

and opened a ‘bed and breakfast’. She ran that up until the late ‘60’s. It was then

that the stretch of Interstate 65 that took state highway 39 traffic and U.S. 31 away

from Goodshoe opened. When that happened, there was not enough traffic to keep

many of the businesses open, much less a ‘bed and breakfast’.

Miss Clara had also made a huge supper for him. She had fried up two chickens.

Then she added mash potatoes, brussels sprouts, green beans, sweet potatoes and

chocolate pie. When he had finished, he was concerned that he was too stuffed to

walk to the city hall for the court proceedings.



Miss Clara asked him what time he wanted breakfast. He said he did not care

whatever was good for her. He added “I am not even sure when Bucky will have

my car ready”. She said, “Bucky probably will not even start on it until about 9:00

AM.” “Why don’t we eat about 8:00 AM.?” she added. Tom agreed readily.

However, what he really wanted to do was call his wife. However, he knew he

would have to wait until he left Goodshoe. He was torn. He wanted to stay and

soak up more of this wonderful place. But he wanted to get home and tell his wife

all about it.



About 6:30 PM, he headed for City Hall for Court. Miss Clara said she did not

want to go. She would make sure that his room was ready, and she would finish up

in the kitchen.



When he got to the courtroom, he thought things were a bit odd. He had been to

court on several occasions. But he did not remember the camaraderie that was

present tonight, in any court he had ever been in. In Mobile, court was usually a

bit more somber. He had been in court with some friends, helping them; and he has

served as a juror two times in his life. Nevertheless, these people seemed like they

were having a good time. There was coffee from the café along with pie, cake and

donuts from the bakery.



He helped himself to coffee and a piece of cake. Not that he really needed

anything else to eat. Nevertheless, he wanted to be sociable. And in the south,

sociability is measured in food and drink.



About 7:15, for a 7:00 PM, court the Mayor/Magistrate came in. That was about

right for a judge. At least that was how they did it in Mobile. When he called the

court to order, he read some standard rules and guidelines for the procedures in

court. Judge Perkins told the clerk to call the first case. The clerk of the court,

trying not to laugh, called the first case of Goodshoe vs. Solomon, ‘spitting on the

sidewalk’. Mr. Solomon pled ‘not guilty’. The Chief gave a description of what

happened causing him to write the citations. Mr. Solomon, agreed with the

statement of the Chief, but tried to explain that he had bad allergies. “The

mucous,” he continued, “was so thick, and he was out of Kleenex.” He was infront

of the drugstore, from which he was about to buy a box of Kleenex. Judge Perkins

listened attentatively.



Finally, the Judge began to speak, with his verdict. He said, “I have known Rufus

Solomon for nearly thirty-five years. And I have never known him to lie.” He

then turned to the Chief and asked “Peter could the explanation he offered be

plausible.” The Chief responded quickly, “Most certainly, your honor.” “But I

wrote the citation, because that is my job. As you know your job is to decide if

there are extenuating circumstances.” The Judge then quickly dismissed the

charges.



Court continued, with similar cases, at least in severity. And the Judge dismissed

all of them.



I came up to him after it was over and he asked me to take a walk with him. “What

did you think of our little court?” he asked. “I know that the courts in Mobile are a

little fancier, but we don’t have to put up with a bunch of attorneys. Just me and

old Bruce Farmer to confuse the issues,” he added. And tonight, Bruce did not

have a thing to do. Therefore, he could not confuse the issues.” “Well it was

different,” Tom said. “But the question I have, is how do you support the town,

without leveling any fines?” The Judge says, “Well we make do.”



Then it dawned on Tom that there was another oddity in this town. Again he had

not seen any money passed. Even at the diner all of the customers holler, “put it

my account Margie.” In addition, no one would take money from him. So how are

the people paying there bills, if there is no money. All the Mayor would say is “we

make do.”



Tom and the Mayor left the courtroom together after the Mayor checked that the

lights are out. Tom noticed that he did not lock the door. Mayor Perkins asks Tom

to walk with him a ways and check out the town after dark. Not knowing why, but

curious he agrees.



The Mayor says “Tom have you found what your were looking for?” Tom

answers, “I am not sure.” “But how did you know I was looking for something?”

Tom quips. “Well”, the Mayor says, “nobody usually comes through here, unless

they are looking for something.” “You do not believe your car just did not start for

no reason.” Tom says quickly, “no of course not.” “There must be something

broken or worn out” finishing his thought. Then the Mayor taps his lips with his

pipe. Tom had not noticed a pipe until just then. Tapping his lips, the Mayor says,

“Yes of course, and it’s probably something simple.” “But if I were to surmise, I

bet you were looking for the peace of a by-gone era. Furthermore, I would bet that

the gentile way of life that your folks told you about has been very illusive, down

in the big city of Mobile and its surrounding area. Am I right?” Tom thinks for a

minute and says, “Yeh, I guess it was something like that.” “But how did your

know?” The Mayor says, “It’s simple. When that kind of life is in your genes, you

cannot get it out. And if the truth be known, I believe everyone has a smidgen of it

somewhere deep down inside.” “Well it’s getting late. You do not want to keep

Miss Clara up too late. And if I don’t see you again, have a safe trip back to

Mobile.” With that, they parted company in the middle of Main Street.



About that time the Police Chief came by and honked his horn and waved. Tom

waved back, but his mind was a million miles away. He was thinking about the

brief conversation he had had with the Mayor. He knew exactly why Tom had

driven up the Interstate and hopped off on to the farm to market roads. He was

looking for something. He thought about his life back in Mobile. He had a

wonderful wife and the three boys were great. But now they had their own lives.

What about this peaceful life of the rural South? Was it what he was looking for?

On the other hand, was it peace in his own life? He was not sure. But what he did

know was that after Goodshoe nothing would be the same for him.



What he was also sure of, was that he really did not want to keep Miss Clara up

any longer. When he came through the door; it seemed the whole town still left

their doors unlocked; she went and got him a glass of milk and another piece of

cake. One thing for sure, he would not loose any weight on this trip. He was

going to have to fast a week just to loose the excess.



They chatted at the dining room table. Small talk mostly, but it seemed to be all

part of him slowing down. He felt like he could just sit back on the porch and fall

asleep, day or night.



Tom went upstairs to go to bed. He had the whole upstairs to himself. Miss

Clara’s room was downstairs. He noticed for the first time an odor, which he had

not smelled in many years. He called it a country smell. You can’t describe it. It

is a cross between a faint “out house” odor and a cool breeze over the kudzu.



At 7:30 AM Tom heard Miss Clara down in the kitchen making breakfast. He

hoped that it was not a big one, because he did not usually eat breakfast. Finishing

up in the bathroom, he dressed and repacked his small suitcase and briefcase; and

brought them down the stairs with him.



In the dining room, Miss Clara (much to his chagrin) had spread a breakfast fit for

a farm hand fixing to do a day’s hard work. There were eggs, steak, ham, grits,

biscuits, sausage and plenty of it. He did not want to hurt her feelings, and the

truth was, it smelled really good. Moreover, it reminded him of his mother’s

cooking. While Mom did not put that much on the table at one time, it did smell

the same.



While they ate, they again shared in small talk. In addition, Miss Clara gave him

something she had found last night but had forgotten to give to him. It was a

picture of his mother in the first grade. It was one of those single pictures; that you

give to all your friends. He tucked in his shirt pocket with a lot of thanks to her.

Just as they were clearing the table, Bucky came through the door. He had his car

fixed. It was the starter. And he had put a new one on it. That was what Tom

thought it was. But how did he get it fixed so fast? That part must have been 45

years old and new?. Tom asked him “how did you have that new part on hand.” I

realize taking off the old one and putting on the another one, does not take too

much time. But how did you have the part. Oh, around here that part is not so old,

Bucky said. Curious, Tom thought.



Tom was going to pay him. He knew the starter was about $25.00. And if he

would not take anything for the labor, at least he was going to pay for the part. He

stuffed it in Bucky’s uniform shirt pocket that looked about ready to fall apart.

Bucky, left, saying Louie was outside in the wrecker to take him back to the shop.

As Bucky passed the car, he dropped the money Tom had just given him, on the

driver’s seat; as he had left the window down. Tom turned to Miss Clara and just

did not know what to say. Meeting her was like being with his Mom again. She

suddenly reached out and gave him a motherly hug and a kiss on the cheek. He

gathered up his things, turned again to her, and said, “I would like to bring my wife

back to meet you.” She looked a little sad and said with a forced smile; that would

be nice she said. He figured she was just as sad about his having to leave as he

was.



He put his things in the car, waved back to her, and slowly pulled away from the

curb, making a u-turn and heading back toward Main Street. He had found the

money on the seat. He was a mind to go down to the shop and stuff it down

Bucky’s throat. However, he thought better of it, as the people had been so nice to

him. As he passed the café, Margie had just stepped outside to look for something

Ralph had said he had dropped coming in. Tom remembered he was supposed to

go by and see the house that he came home to, from the hospital, when he was

born. It was now Ralph’s home. However, he just honked, waved goodbye to her

and asked her to tell Ralph he would see the house next trip. She suddenly stopped

smiling that broad toothy grin she had and looked down sadly. She just as quickly

looked up with what looked like a forced smile and waved back. And Tom said to

himself, “What was that about?”



As he drove out of town, he suddenly felt like he could never come back to

Goodshoe. He did not know why, but something told him he had found what he

wanted and most of all needed. But what made it seem to him that all the others

seemed to know too; he would not be back?

Suddenly Tom heard a tapping on his window. He rose up and there was a deputy

sheriff. He asked if he was all right. He said “yeh, sure.” “Well I felt like you

were just asleep, but I wanted to check.”



Tom shaking his head to get the sleep out of it noticed that he was facing south; the

opposite way than he had been facing when he parked on the side of the road to

catch a nap. He said, “Deputy isn’t Goodshoe right back up the road about 5

miles?” “It was, but all but one of the residents have either died or moved away.

The guy that ran the café, his son still lives somewhere around there.” The Deputy

continued, “Well if you are okay, then I will be going.” Tom said, “Yeh, thanks

for stopping. I need to get a move on.”



Tom sat there for a minute, very puzzled. He decided to do another u-turn and

drive back to Goodshoe. In about ten minutes, he caught a glimpse of a sign,

hidden in the bushes saying Goodshoe. It was not standing out, as it was earlier.

This time there seems to be overgrowth and kudzu hiding it. He rounded the curve

and there was a row of buildings, with roofs fallen in, signs swinging in the breeze

and shop windows broken.



About that time, he saw a car heading his way. He slowed down and stuck his arm

out, indicating he wanted the driver to stop. He said, “I’m Tom Jenkins.” The

other driver said “I’m Ralph Thompson. What can I do for you?” “This town,

how long has it been like this?” “Oh, about 25 years.” Then he looked at the

driver, he was the spitten image of the Ralph Thompson he had met just yesterday.

Well at least he thought it was yesterday. “My dad died about that time and Mayor

Perkins went to a Nursing Home in Montgomery.” Ralph Continued. “It’s too bad

some of the others could not of held out. I am going to the Hyundai plant to work.

It just did not get here soon enough to save Goodshoe. Well if there is nothing

else, I gotta go, or I will be late.”



As Ralph drove off, Tom sat in stunned silence. Had he not just been there? Tom

checked his watch, (the time was correct, and one day had lapsed) everything had

been alive and people were in the streets. Now Miss Clara’s street is grown over

and barely passable. On a hunch, he got out of the car and raised the hood to his

1957 Chevy. Yep, just as he suspected, somebody has been under the hood

working. In addition, yes that is a new starter. It did not even have any road dust

or grease on it yet.



As he straightened up, something started to fall out his pocket. It was the picture

Miss Clara had given him, along with a napkin saying Goodshoe Café. It had been

real. But how? Had he run into a local version of “Shangri-La”?



But what he did know was that he had found what he had been looking far. There

is more to life than “hustle and bustle”. There is more than wheeling and dealing;

and trying to get “one up” on people. There is still good in people. Moreover,

whether you are a southerner or not, the principles of hospitality and being a Good

Samaritan are alive in each one of us. We just have to reach down (sometimes it is

way down) deep to find it.