When I worked in Atlanta, Brenda got a job at the prison
in Wewahitchka, maintaining
the computers and installing
the phone system. She bought a trailer on Stone
Mill Creek Road,
near her work. I used to drive down to see her on long weekends.
I
built a chicken pen for her and tilled and fertilized a garden
with straw and
goat shit from the petting zoo. I loved Wewa.
I thought I would work for Lucent
Technologies until I was 70,
and then retire to Wewa. I thought I'd be a Wewahitchka,
Florida writer.
I got WMPed. Workforce Management Program. I was surplused.
Superannuated.
Found redundant to their current needs.
Screwed, blued, and tattooed. By then,
Brenda had moved
to Atlanta with me and sold the trailer. When we moved back
to Florida it was to Parker, to her old home place.
After Granny Brown and
Uncle Wayne died.
No more stock car engines at the fastest dirt track
in the
south. No more Tupelo Honey Festival.
No more Go, Gators. The high school football
team.
I wrote a column for the Gulf County Breeze
called "Souvenirs."
I think. I don't remember.
Now all I have is the T-shirt.