EVER BEEN CALLED STUPID AND IT WAS TRUE?

A couple of weeks ago, during the hottest of the hot times we have experienced this summer, I learned that a person, me in this instance, can be rightfully called stupid in the most innocent of ways. No rudeness, or bad intent, just truthful innocence.

A friend had ask me to ride with him to a city not far from Decatur to look for some grave sites. The reason for going he explained was that his wife had some relatives buried in this particular cemetery and she intended to spruce up the graves before Decoration Day(an annual Sunday in the South when relatives will refresh the grave sites of love ones by making sure the grass is cut or sand smoothed out and fresh plastic flowers are placed on the burial sites). I did not have anybody buried there or did not even know of anyone that intended to be placed at rest in this particular ‘garden’.

We arrived at the huge plot designated as the final resting place for what look like thousands of dearly departed in the heat of the day. There was a tiny office near the only entrance to the place where we stop to ask directions to the plots of my buddy’s distance and long departed in-laws. We both went in and were greeted by a woman just finishing a bucket of KFC hot wings which had obviously been chased by a huge bottle of Sun-Drop. She was a little overweight and had finger nails that had the logo "A" for the University of Alabama in glitter on both index fingers. My friend ask about where Uncle Morton McNutt's family might be buried and without consulting anything the chicken lady quickly informed him they were in the Garden of the Cross, which was the center most plot. “We ain’t got maps for each grave site but I know they are up there because my husband’s third cousin by marriage was buried up there last month and I remember seeing that name, go see if that’s who you’re looking for and if it ain’t come back and I will get out the maps.”

Armed with this wealth of information we returned to our car and started looking for the large Cross she had told us to find. Sure enough in the center of the property on what looked like the highest point we saw the Cross and proceeded to the area surrounding the only clue we had. We parked as close to the Cross as possible but quickly saw the ‘Garden of the Cross’ held what looked like a couple of hundred markers for all those fortunate enough to get what must have been a coveted place.

We had been in the area, separated by only a few grave sites for 15 or 20 minutes and it was miserably hot. As we walked the length of the ‘Garden’ and back, searching each headstone for any McNutt we could find, an old pickup pulled in behind my buddy’s car and stopped. Inside was a driver and two passengers. The driver, sporting a 2 or 3 day old beard and obviously chewing tobacco hollered across all those resting in what had been peace to my buddy and I. “Ya’ll got somebody burd (southern one syllable word for ‘buried’) out there?” Being the closest to him I replied, “no, we are from out of town and we are looking for some of the graves of my friends wife”. “That’s what I come for to" the driver replied, "my old lady found out I was coming to town today and she told me to find an uncle of hers”, the driver informed us. “Ya’ll seen any Willard’s out there”, the grave searcher in the pickup ask? “They’d a-been burd up here since back in the 80’s”, the driver continued to holler. “I haven’t seen anything I remember”, my buddy responded, “but we haven’t covered much ground yet”. “You might a knowed em”, the driver just kept talking. “He was old ‘Mutt’ Willard that run that bait store out on 20 close to the dam, sold a little beer too before the county went wet”, the driver just kept talking without ever getting out of the truck. "I think there's four or five of 'em burd out here". This time we both answered, “We don’t live around here, sorry”, it came out pretty close to the same at the same time.

“Why don’t you get out and look around, surely they will be in here somewhere”, my buddy asks. “Not me the driver responded, I’m gonna just tell the old lady I looked and couldn’t find ‘em, she ain’t gonna know the difference and really don’t care. Anyway I ain’t stupid enough to walk around a hot cemetery in 100 degree weather looking for somebody I don't give a ---- about anyway. See you boys later”. With that the pickup pulled out, passed our car and drove off through the entrance and back on the highway.

Suddenly it hit me, I was stupid enough to stand out in the 100+ degree weather and look for the graves of people I never knew. It must have hit my buddy about the same time because he looked at me and said, “this is pretty stupid, let’s get out of here and I think I’ll tell my ‘old lady’ we couldn’t find her folks either, maybe well come back around Thanksgiving”.

We never found my buddy’s folks or saw where the Willards were burd, but we were smart enough to get back in some air conditioning.