The Writing on the Wall

In West Blocton, Alabama my great grandfather owned a Five & Dime. West Blocton was a mining town. Coal dust filled the cracks in every floor. Miners would buy goods from my grandfather on payday before taking to the bars then the streets at night. He would move money and receipts across the store using a pulley system of wires that ran along the ceiling. I don’t remember much of the store. I was too young to take it all in when I visited. My great grandmother was running it then. She let me pick out one toy to take home. I remember proudly taking a plastic cowboy set complete with flimsy brown vinyl vest, gray painted Sheriff’s badge, and cap gun.

During the depression, starving men looking for work would come to my great grandfather for food. He gave them what they needed and in the back room they would write their IOU’s on the walls. By the end of the depression these walls were covered with the names of men who he helped. Most probably caught rail cars to other places in search of work. Some came back to repay the debt. Others didn’t. I don’t think my great grandfather expected them to come back. I don’t know if he asked them to sign their names on that wall or if it was their way of preserving a sliver of dignity.

A friend has been volunteering at the Houston Astrodome helping the victims of Hurricane Katrina. Last night she worked in the clothing distribution center. Evacuees gave her their size and what they need then she sorted through the mounds of clothing to find it for them. I know that this is embarrassing for some of these people. I hope the world continues to give without prejudice allowing them to preserve just a sliver of dignity just like those men who wrote IOU’s on my great grandfather’s wall with nothing but hope backing them up.