Gone to Green

by Judy Christie

  As we ate, Eva told me again how glad she was to have me in Green.

  "I enjoy watching you lead the downtown group," she said. "I can't believe it, but I'm thinking we may get something done this go-round. You are something when you go into action." She hesitated. "I hope I don't sound patronizing when I say that you have the gift of leadership. You are a bright spot in our community."

  I almost choked on my tea and covered the sound with a little cough that came out more like a hiccup. One of the things I most enjoyed about my new job was it brought me in touch with such a wide range of people. Earlier that day I been trying to convince Rose to put a billboard on the interstate and to add a regional crafts booth to her store. Tonight I was dining with the most influential businesswoman in town, and she was paying me a gigantic compliment.

  "Thank you," I said, "but I think you are the one with that gift. I admire you and what you do for the Green area."

  Immediately she blew that off in her elegant, somewhat old-fashioned way of speaking. "I'm obligated to give back to Green because it has given so much to me and my family through the years," she said. "I've had to work for lots in my life, but I've had many opportunities other people never have. I don't take that for granted."

  Dabbing a tiny blob of Thousand Island dressing from the corner of her mouth, she continued. "As I was saying, I believe deeply that to whom much is given, much is expected. That is part of why I asked you here tonight. I want to know if you'd consider helping me stir things up."

  12

  Betty Brosette's dog, Elfie Smith, remains missing and has been at-large since Thursday. He had not been found at press time. Betty lives off Old Bayou Boulevard, and so did Elfie Smith, a mixed breed that most of you know: white, brown ears and feet, loves liver and tomatoes, which you remember from a story we published and ran in May.

  -The Green News-Item

  "News-Item, Lois Barker," I said, picking up my phone on a day when it had not stopped ringing.

  The McCullers had called to complain about a package we had done on proposed roadwork near the lake. Major Wilson contended we were ruining his business with our negative coverage, and Lee Roy had rushed into my office, demanding to know if I meant to completely kill our revenue streams.

  "You are some firecracker, aren't you?" a gruff, sort of wavery woman's voice said on the phone, a voice that sounded old but not the least bit unsure.

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Miss Barker, you are stepping on toes right and left in this town, and I can't tell you how much fun it is to watch."

  "May I help you, ma'am?" I said, surprised at how close to the surface my old irritated city editor voice was.

  "Oh, get off your high horse, missy. This is Helen McCuller, and I wanted to thank you for dusting off my history of the community and running that piece. It reminded me of the days when I was the one stirring things up."

  "Oh, Aunt Helen!" I said, then immediately realized what I had done. "I mean Miss McCuller, how good it is to hear from you. I apologize for not contacting you before the history ran. I've been meaning to call. The feedback has been outstanding."

  "Well, girl, I'm glad it worked out, and you just call me Aunt Helen. Most people in town do."

  "I want to thank you for all you did at your house, too," I said. "You probably know I'm living out on Route 2 now. That yard is something else."

  "Did the dogwood bloom? Last time I was out that way it looked like the cold had nipped it back a little."

  Helen's call lasted nearly an hour. Before it was over, I had a new supporter, which meant a lot in a month when I was turning people off right and left. "Don't worry about big people with little minds," she said. "And don't take the politics of life in Green too seriously. Local politics are seldom as good as they could be, nor as bad as they seem."

  She suggested I drop by to see her sometime. "Keep fighting, firecracker."

  While I had never thought of myself as a firecracker, my role in Green did suddenly seem to be that of troublemaker, ranging from annoying half the businesses in town with the Downtown Dollar Days to attempting to become the first female member of the Oak Crest Country Club.

  Eva, who had led me into part of this stink, told me it had always bothered her that the country club, such an integral part of Green life for movers and shakers, had never invited women as members. "I'm an ex-officio member, through my family connections, but I am not a voting member," she said. "I find that insulting. And I am quite troubled that there are not members of color."

  This topic clearly mattered to her. "How can we as community members-as Christian people-shut out one of the biggest groups in our community? And if you try to tell me that they like to hang out with people of their own kind, I'll throw up my tilapia right here."

  I had not known for certain that the club excluded minorities and women but had suspected it. For the past six months or so, I had been funding Lee Roy's membership, knowing in my heart it was wrong. "This is immoral and unethical," Eva said, "and I need your help in getting Dr. Kevin Taylor to seek membership, too. She's the perfect person to be our first minority member."

  I sighed, half out of frustration that we were still living divided by skin color, and half because I did not need nor want another battle. For the first time in several weeks I thought of Ed and wondered how the sixty-year-old, white male would have handled this. But I knew I couldn't squirm out of it, no matter how uncomfortable it made me.

  Eva was a bit too gleeful when I said I would be her female guinea pig.

  Kevin came along more slowly.

  "I'm just not sure," she said. "I don't want to stir things up ... but I would like to see our town be more accepting."

  I jumped in. "If we don't take a stand, who will? This is really a small thing, and it could help in big ways later on."

  "I wouldn't even consider it if that house issue hadn't come up," she said. "I just can't believe you can't buy a house somewhere because you're black." She finally agreed to apply for membership. The three of us had lunch at the club to seal the deal, a meal that got more attention than it should have.

  I also implemented an aggressive community outreach program to get lots of different people in the paper, making it more representative of the parish as a whole. I had to do this because it was the job of the newspaper to reflect the area, and I had to do it from a business standpoint.

  "We need to be more open about asking for news and opinions from different groups," I told each of the small staff. "And we need to be helpful in publishing it in a timely and fair way." The coverage prompted a wave of calls that we were running too many blacks in the paper and I would be the ruin of the town. Only two or three of my older "coaches" called to tell me I was doing the right thing, ranging from Miss Gertrude with another pound cake to Miss Pearl.

  The former owners and my business manager were not as kind, chiming in for the second time in less than a week. The Big Boys stopped by together, something unprecedented since the day I took over The News-Item. They seemed determined to make me change my mind about the country club and the kinds of news we put in the paper, subtly reminding me I was a short-timer in Green and should not make a fuss.

  "Miss Lois, we're sure you mean well," Dub said, "but you are sticking your nose in something that doesn't really concern you. This has long-term implications for our little town. Things are working fine just like they are."

  Chuck jumped in as soon as Dub paused. "This is the South, and things just aren't done like they are up north ... bad for business."

  When they left, they were annoyed I had not readily agreed with them.

  "I'm trying to do what's best," I said. "What's right. I'll keep considering the best steps to take-for the paper and for Green."

  Lee Roy's eyes nearly popped out of his head when I told him what I was doing, in the community and the newspaper. I also told him if Kevin and I did not get into Oak Crest, I would cancel his membership, unwilling to contribute to a business that was unfair.<
br />
  Not thirty minutes passed before I had another call from Major.

  "Miss Lois, I'm calling as your friend to tell you to let things stay the way they are. People pay for their memberships, and they have the right to invite whoever they want to join. If someone does not want to join because of club policies, that's his or her choice."

  I waited for him to continue, certain the pause was not the end of his speech.

  "Those people have all sorts of clubs that let them in," he said.

  My voice trembled when I answered him, but I hoped it did not show. I acted as though I had totally misunderstood his point.

  "I look forward to your support on this issue," I said, "knowing you represent so many of the fine people of Green in your police jury district, women and men, African Americans and Whites. I know that as a Realtor and a public official you do not believe in discrimination because of the color of someone's skin or their gender. I'd appreciate you reminding your friends at Oak Crest of that."

  And I hung up on him.

  It was the only time in Green I ever hung up on anyone. I was not proud of myself, but I did not want him to know I was crying. His call came just after I had taken a contentious call from a preacher who told me how wrong I was. The two combined were too much. Between offending people by trying to bring some equality to Green and offending small-town businesses by "playing favorites," I was homesick for the anonymity of the city desk at a big paper.

  Several downtown businesses had gotten their feelings hurt that they were not included in a group advertisement we ran, promoting the upcoming Homemade Ice Cream Social and Downtown Dollar Days. The other bank, where the paper did not have its accounts, complained to the chamber of commerce that I was trying to "take over," and the chamber should do something about it. While some people, such as the Baptists and Methodists, seemed thrilled and were planning downtown activities for children every Saturday in July, others were annoyed and thought the efforts a waste of time and energy. The grumblers came out in full force.

  I was discouraged, but not deterred.

  I had expected this to be a tough job and a rough year, but I was stunned by how raw some of the issues left me, how I doubted myself and the people around me. Over and over I asked myself if I was doing the right thing, if it was my right to try to change this little town where I was basically a visitor. I cried to my dead mother and asked what she would do. I sought out like-minded people to tell me I was doing the right thing, and people who disagreed with me to try to talk sense into me. I thought about Pastor Jean's sermon on wisdom and tried to figure out what she might have been telling me.

  In the end, I prayed-deep, heartfelt, on-my-knees prayer, for the first time since the day my mother was buried.

  Amazingly, interesting dominoes began to fall. First Methodist Church pastors had traditionally been members of Oak Crest, but now the pastor was a foreign man who never wore a suit and sometimes still wore what looked like a skirt. He did, however, like to play golf. His church leaders stepped forward to recommend him for the church's membership slot at the club and included a letter announcing their support of the membership of Miss Lois Barker and Dr. Kevin Taylor. The congregation at Grace Community Chapel, most of whom had only been to a wedding reception or high school reunion at the club, wrote a moving letter, signed by nearly thirty-five members, an accomplishment, considering the average attendance at worship.

  Kevin's elderly partner endorsed her with vigor. Although he had expressed some reservations to her in private, in public he told the world such prejudice had to be wiped out. The chamber of commerce wound up endorsing Eva Hillburn as a full member, pointing out her leadership stature.

  By the time we were voted in, the country club battle seemed somewhat shallow and the victory a bit hollow. But Aunt Helen stopped by the newspaper to meet me face-to-face and remind me history was being made.

  "It takes brave people to stand against a crowd," she said, holding out her wrinkled hand to shake mine. "I'm proud of you, girl. When you taking me out there for lunch?"

  I had little time to go to the club now that I was a member because of the upcoming festivities downtown. I worked with Tom on our Green Forward editorials and invited each of the downtown merchants to write a short guest column about why they liked being part of the heart of Green. I hired a freelance artist to design a cute map of downtown that could run in the paper and be distributed by each business. Tammy went on a building-wide cleaning campaign that was astounding in its results, and Iris Jo organized newspaper tours for the day of the Ice Cream Social.

  The event had turned into a fund-raiser to buy sidewalk benches and to replace a few hideous modern streetlights with expensive old-fashioned ones that suited the character of the town better. The occasion had begun to pick up steam, literally, since the July weather was the hottest on record.

  Kevin called. "I can do free blood-pressure checks in the lobby of the paper," she said. Someone from the school board office called. "May we have a table for school registration dates, the Parent-Student Association and other education news?" The high school athletic booster club had leftover spirit ribbons they wanted to sell. The Green Fire Department asked to bring one of its trucks and agreed to shoot fireworks that the chamber had somehow come up with. "We got the art guild to put together a great exhibition," Rose said, "with some very nice work for sale."

  The 4-H Club volunteered to do a petting zoo, but we wound up turning down that offer. "Have you ever smelled goats in summer?" a member of Green Forward asked.

  "Maybe we'll do something in the fall," I told the nice student who called. I was probably losing my mind even to suggest the fall event, but he seemed so disappointed about not being part of this.

  I ran into Katy several times on the streets downtown, and she had begun to be marginally friendlier. She even introduced me to her friend, Molly, an African American girl I had seen getting on and off the school bus near the paper.

  "She rescued me from some bullies at school," Katy said, poking the other girl in the ribs. Clearly the two had become good friends before school let out for summer. I wondered sometimes if it were easier for Katy to make a new friend than to try to pretend she wasn't sad around her old friends.

  They sat on the loading dock one day, Katy smoking and Molly fiddling with an old CD player. "Hey, girls," I said. "We need some help, and Tammy said you might be the answer. How about running the snow cone stand during our downtown festivities?"

  I tried to assess their interest. "You get to keep half of what you make. The other half goes to the downtown fund."

  Both girls seemed pleased, as though looking for something to shake off their boredom. During the next few days, they were in and out of the paper a half dozen times, planning with Tammy, asking for materials for signs, copy paper for flyers, tape, and scissors and a variety of other things. Their enthusiasm rubbed off on others at The News-Item, and interest in the festivities picked up.

  The day of the celebration turned out to be the hottest ever recorded in Green. The newspaper, Eva, and the hardware store had scraped up enough money to buy all the volunteers green T-shirts with "Go Green!" on the front and a list of our downtown association members on the back.

  By mid-morning most of the shirts were soaking wet, and volunteers were wiping their faces with the white handkerchiefs still carried by most men in Green.

  The homemade ice cream helped. When we tried to count how many dishes of ice cream we served, we would start laughing-"get tickled," as Tammy said-and have to start over. The best I could figure, we had about three dozen ice cream freezers in action, with a backup supply in the freezers at the Cotton Boll Cafe. Some of the ice cream cooks were purists, turning up their noses at the suggestion they make anything but vanilla. Others were somewhat famous in Green for their Fresh Peach or Butterfinger ice cream. The unofficial taste tests had an underlying competitiveness.

  By the middle of the afternoon, the thermometer at the bank read 103. I worried th
at people might drop from heat exhaustion, but the heat steered more people into businesses. The churches turned on their lawn sprinklers for the children to play in.

  The one person who didn't seem hot was Eva, who wore white linen slacks and a sleeveless silk shirt and looked as though she were ready for a day of bridge at the club. The only thing I could find wrong with her was a little lipstick on her front tooth.

  "My mother told me that ladies don't sweat," she said with a laugh. "They glow."

  "Well, that explains it then," I said. I do not recall ever sweating so much in my life.

  Some of the people I had begun to think of as friends made it a point to show up. Pearl and Marcus and most of the members of the Lakeside Neighborhood Association were there, wandering around, meeting and greeting with years of experience. Mr. Marcus ate a Blue Raspberry snow cone, turning his lips and tongue blue and generally distracting from his dignified appearance-one of the funnier things I saw that day.

  Aunt Helen arrived in a nursing home van with a half dozen other women and stayed for an hour before it got too hot. "You did it," she said. "You drew a crowd downtown. Fine work."

  Several of my newspaper regular visitors came and contributed cookies for Tammy to serve in the lobby. Even the usual local politicians showed up, including Mayor Oscar, who had achieved hero status with his retirement announcement, and Major, shaking hands with one arm and wiping his face with the other.

  Pastor jean brought a trio of small boys. "Meet my friends, Miss Lois. They live near the church, and we're having a special day today because they're such special fellows." They looked like urchins from a poor nation, with dirty clothes that were too small and ragged tennis shoes. I bought each of them a snow cone and made sure they got to sit inside the fire truck and sound the siren.

  Iris Jo visited nearby with several people at the school tables, including Katy's mother and Craig, the catfish farmer and coach, who smiled and walked over to visit when he saw me. Or was his name Chris?

  I was surprised at how happy I was that he had made it.