Today started out early....I did not go to work because Frank had a procedure at Lanier Hospital this morning and we had to be there at 7:30...the problem is that they are on Eastern Time and we live on Central. 4:30 came early but we got there on time and are now home. With that said I had planned to tell you a story about someone very dear to me.....Lee Terrell Prophitt, my grandfather. I adored my grandfather. When we came to Alabama to visit them I was his shadow. There was no one like him. He was tall and thin, a twin(his twin was short and stocky), one of 14 children, rolled his own cigarettes, smoked Prince Albert in a can, played any instrument you put in his hands, worked in the cotton mill (Avondale), fixed watches and clocks, collected junk, and went to church every Sunday of his life. The thing I loved the most about this man was that he accepted a man for what he was....it did not matter what color his skin was. That was one of many life lessons I learned at his feet. People are just people and they serve the same God. When we were little...all the men would gather in his living room on Friday or Saturday nights and play and sing. We supposedly were already fast asleep on our pallets....but we would hear the music and pull our pallet as close to the door to the den as we could so we could hear them. After they finished playing someone would drag our pallet back to where it was. When we were big enough to hold a guitar he sat us down and taught us three chords and the song "Maggie." When we could play it to his standard he would allow us to play with the group. I was 15 when I first had that privilege. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. He also had drink boxes outside his shed. My favorite one was the RC Cola box. In that box would be delights for the pallet. I could hardly wait to get to his house so I could beg for a nickel and a drink from the treasure box. Strawberry NeHi was my choice....that is until I got sick and threw up once....I have not had one since. One thing he did not tolerate from us was vagueness. When he told us to go and do something....that is what he expected from us. When we did not produce the desired results he would take us...tuck us up next to his check....put his left arm straight out.....and tell us to "follow his finger."(I wish you could hear his voice here....my cousin Stanley does it just like him.) I never wanted to have him do that to me. The boy cousins tended to get it more than the girls...we knew better. I loved it when he would tell us stories of his childhood. We would all gather at his feet and he told us about our great grandfather riding a horse into the Harris Co. Courthouse and shooting out the lights, about coming to Tallassee, AL down the Chattahootchee River, being one of 14 children, his father, his mother, his brothers and sisters....so I guess storytelling is in my blood. I come from a long line of them....want to know more? Follow my fingers here on my blog and find out. :-) Have a happy Monday!
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