A Northwest Alabama Travelogue

Driving down Highway 278, headed for I-65 and the long drive back to, Michigan, I arrive at the outskirts of a small town where a sign reads: “Addison, Alabama, home of Pat Buttram”, and then adds parenthetically, “Sidekick of Gene Autry.” I think to myself, “if you have to explain who your celebrity is, do they qualify as one?” In my case, the explanation was unnecessary, as he was on television every afternoon when I was growing up the early 1950’s. At least the town fathers were not so uncertain as to add an explanation of who Gene Autry was. I even remember the name of his horse.

In the same town are two churches, “Central Church of Christ” and “Addison Church of Christ,” not more than 150 yards apart. There is a story to be told there, no doubt.

A few miles back, in Double Springs, a forest of yard signs admonished passers-by to “Vote Dry.” Amongst them was a solitary sign reading, “Vote No on Alcohol,” placed there, I presume, by the closest thing the town has to a free-thinker. If you think there were any signs saying “Choose booze,” you are wrong.

Is it the height of snobbery to pray that, after I am dead, no one decorate my grave with brightly-colored plastic flowers? It is characteristic of all rural cemeteries in this part of Alabama. And yes, it is snobbery. Jesus called people into the kingdom of God, not the kingdom of Good Taste. Those piles of plastic flowers represent a labor of love, and a link between the living and the dead. So what if they’re ugly?