Month: October 2019

By Jerome Pearson

June 2015

The movie titled “The Thing from another World” is a 1951 American black-and-white science fiction/horror film.  The story concerns a U.S. Air Force crew and scientists who travel to the North Pole to examine an aircraft crash located near a scientific outpost.  Once there, they discovered a flying saucer and an extraterrestrial pilot whom they bring back to the lab, frozen in a block of ice, for further study. It’s not long before it was learned that the THING from another world was a super-intelligent man with the ability to both regenerate lost limbs and reproduce through spreading seeds—thaws out and begins to wreak havoc.  They are then forced to defend themselves against this thing when it is accidentally revived. 

The “Thing from another World” became unstoppable alien bent on world domination.  The movie “presents a world that is caught in the unsteady balance between ‘Us and Them’—that is to say, between the normal people and the people who are a little too brainy for their own good”.  The movie was released in 1951 during the Cold War period, which was certainly a scary time throughout the world.  However, it was only a movie!

Twenty years later in fall of 1971, another scary creature was discovered, and was appropriately (perhaps coincidentally), called “THE THING”. Only this time, “THE THING” was not found in the artic by mad scientists but was rather found in roaming various communities within Clarendon County, South Carolina to include, Summerton, St. Paul, Davis Station, and Davis Cross Roads.

For several months, starting in the fall of 1971 and ending somewhere around the spring 1972, THE THING haunted and terrorized our community as we received no help from the Federal Government.  As a matter of fact, even the news agencies showed no interest in our predicament.  Each day when I got home from school, I made sure to watch the evening news from start to finish. But there was never a mention of “THE THING”!   

Our military was in its 8th year of what was appearing to be an unending war in Vietnam!  Our President at the time was only concerned about a potential 2^nd term in office; he and his henchmen were too busy breaking into the Watergate building trying to ensure a 2^nd term and could care less about what was happening in our tiny community. I felt as if we were being abandoned by our own Government!

 Of course, we did not have CNN back then; we probably could have used Anderson Cooper and Don Lemon camped out in our town for months “breaking news” all over the place!  They could probably have interviewed a local Pastor who preached one Sunday that “my baby seen The Thing! And I know it’s a sign from God being communicated from the mouth of a babe that the world is finally coming to an end”.

More specifically, in our community THE THING was an unidentified scary creature that began roaming the local areas and killing everything in its way. Although the Thing was supposedly some wild and super animal that was seen by multiple witnesses, there was never a consensus on its exact identity.  When asked what THE THING looked like, witnesses would give varying and often conflicting descriptions. An adult night-school class had seen a reflection of the THING in one of the school’s newly installed stained-glass windows one very cold night; the Thing, they said, looked like some type of mountain-lion.  Following one weekend, I arrived at School and was informed by a classmate that his grandfather had seen THE THING the previous Saturday jumping across interstate highway I-95 with a mule in its mouth. 

Preachers began preaching about the end of time and saying that the arrival of THE THING was only a confirmation that the “End of Times” was immediately upon us.   THE THING had powers that we had never seen in other creatures.  These powers were so super and unusual that the entire story exuded an air of fantasy. People were reporting that some of their chickens, pigs, cattle and in some cases, dogs were being killed off.  The assumption was that it had to be THE THING killing all these animals, and that given the chance; it would kill humans as well. 

Throughout this time THE THING was spotted in multiple locations and in multiple forms.  I recall seeing what I thought was THE THING crossing highway near Davis Cross road as the School bus traveled from Summerton to Spring Hill one day.  My heart almost dropped, but when I looked around, no one else seemed to notice.  So, each day as the bus neared that area, I would become panicky.  During the nighttime, no matter how sleepy I became, I made sure that I went to bed only when my siblings were already in the bed room.  I was afraid that THE THING was always waiting for my entry; he would be out to get me because I had seen him previously from the school bus window.  

One Monday morning, I was informed that the high school cafeteria had been broken into over the weekend and food was taken.  Some folks claimed that they saw THE THING exiting a broken window earlier that Sunday morning; other folks claimed that it was only an elementary school student name Norris Dubois.

One man in Davis Station, whose wife had just given birth to a very unattractive baby boy, began accusing her of being unfaithful; THE THING, he said, was the likely culprit.  However, he failed to realize that his 3 older children would never be mistaken for a member of the “Jackson” family either!

During high school football games that fall, local guys who would normally try to get into the game for free by crossing through the local graveyard and jumping a ditch, now because of THE THING, had to enter through the normal gate like everyone else. Cars would be coming through the paying-gate with 2 passengers in the front seat, 3 in the back seat, and four un-paying passengers in the trunk.

Our School was surrounded by a fence and was the only school I ever attended that had one.  The male teachers were mostly responsible for patrolling the area, but they were often distracted by other things.  The School was overseen by a bull-dog of a principal named “Choice”.  There were two teachers with the name “Wilson”; one big and one was small, both appeared frightened; a teacher named “Miller” who was pre-occupied with doing the “camel walk” or slapping around a spoiled student who he could not stand; another teacher who taught history and wore a big white cowboy hat, but really specialized in writing love letters to some of the 8^th grade female students;  a very tall teacher named “Pompey”, who taught math with food stuck in his mouth; and relatively young  teacher name “Pack”; well perhaps we should not say what he was up to!

THE THING haunted us during the fall and winter of that year but finally disappeared during the spring!  In the blink of any eye, the thing had disappeared and was never seen nor spoken of again.

When I reflect on this story today, I realize that although THE THING was supposedly seen by multiple witnesses, in multiple locations, and in multiple forms during that year, there was still no absolute proof of its existence. 

But for those of us who had seen it, he was as real as anything we had ever encountered and will remain a frightening part of our delightfully dubious memories.

Wait! Did I just hear something?

Grraaaaauuuu!

Jerome Pearson

by Jerome Pearson

August 2012

Flying into Charleston, SC is always fun.  The airport is small, as are most airports in South Carolina, which makes it easy to grab luggage and car and get on the road very soon after de-barking the plane.  Once exiting the airport you will probably be getting onto I- 26 and head east or west, but may first want to have lunch and do some shopping at the Tangiers Outlet Mall prior to entering the Freeway or perhaps even go into the city of Charleston to experience some historical treasures.

On Friday morning, 3 August 2012, I flew from Newark, NJ into Charleston for my High School Bi-Annual Reunion.  This was my second time flying to SC in the last several months.  My wife and I flew into Columbia in May for our nieces’ wedding.  However, this time I was traveling alone, and chose to fly into Charleston, which is apparently the only airport that has direct flights to and from Newark.

After arriving at the airport, I picked-up my rental car which on this day would be a white 2013 Chrysler 300.  Being an Executive Emeralds Club member with National Car Rental, I can reserve a lower-class car but would be given my choice up to the Luxury Class and not pay extra.  I have obtained this status because I travel so often, and National Rental Car is one of my company’s preferred vendors.  A Chrysler 300 is much better than a Ford Fusion or Nissan Altima certainly. When you pull off the lot you can now imagine that you are in that commercial with the 300 being accentuated by the Jay-Z remake of Bobby Blue Bland’s 70s classic “Ain’t no Love in the Heart of the City.” That just must be the hippest car commercial in the last several years.  It is so soulful and so 70’s. 

 I decided to stop briefly at the mall but chose not to have lunch.  There are nice eating places in and around the mall, including Chick-Fil-A, a place I have lunched at in the past.  However, I was not going there on this day with all the controversy, and I am not sure if I will be going there again.  Although not gay myself, I do support gay rights, as I do for all human beings, and I find the company’s president decision to openly demean the lives and morals of many innocent people insulting and mean spirited.  I frankly don’t care what his views are, but to espouse an unsolicited negative commentary regarding lives and morality of others was certainly politically motivated, and perhaps even hateful, and he does not deserve my money.  The chicken is not all that good anyway! 

I did, however, go into Eddie Bauer at the Mall and pick up a couple of T-Shirts.  Although there are nicer stores such as Ralph Lauren and Brooks Brothers, I was only looking for T-Shirts, so Eddie Bauer fitted the bill.

As I was leaving the Mall, I texted our classmate, Sharon Oliver, about the class meeting/brunch we were having on Saturday morning at 11.  I wanted to know if any classmates were also getting together on Friday, but Sharon indicated that only Saturday was planned. She indicated that she, Bertha Mellerson, and Debra Stukes were slaving in the kitchen just as we were texting. I was looking forward to seeing Sharon as I was other classmates, many of whom I had not seen in many years. 

During a birthday cruise in NYC for Leonia Gipson’s 50^th birthday back in 2008 (oh I am telling her age!) there were discussions about one of our classmates being a novelist.  I was not aware of this, but being a lover of books myself, I found Sharon’s email on Amazon and I reached out to her, and we have been in communication since then.  She gets on me all the time about not attempting to publish my own writings, and I always come up with some creative excuse for why I have been so remiss, or lazy, perhaps.  My job does require some writing as well, but it is mostly of the technical and scientific nature.   However, I will say that after writing a 20 page technical report regarding my assessment of a company’s quality systems and adherence to regulatory requirements, I gain some sense of therapy when I am able to morph into a state of “stream of consciousness” and write more creatively.

After leaving the mall, I got onto I- 26 west and headed in the direction of Columbia. Suddenly it began to storm, and the rain was coming down so hard I thought for a moment I might have to pull over.  I could barely see the car ahead of me.  However, the rain was hard, but brief, and before long the sun had come out again.  It was almost noon, so I attempted to call my cousin, Suzy (Gwendolyn James) in Davis Station to invite her to lunch.  However, the call would not go through. 

Shortly, I was exiting I-26 for I-95 and headed North in the direction of Florence. I remained on 95 for about 40 minutes or so, and then exited onto highway 301 in Manning.  I decided to drive to Davis Station and perhaps surprise Suzy at her house.  When I got to her house, there were no cars in the yard, which was an indication that she was not home.  After ringing the doorbell and confirming that no one was home, I headed in the direction of the “Swamp” with plans of having lunch at the “Jones” restaurant, which is something I tend to do at least once when I am in the area.  The owner of the restaurant is the father of my cousin James.  I ordered a fried whiting fish sandwich with French fries, and sweet tea.  I now find whiting better than breams because there are hardly any bones.  With a little bit of hot sauce on the whiting I was soon in pig’s heaven.  Even the light bread tastes good with such configuration.

After eating my lunch, I headed to the Hampton Inn, which is located off exit 119 in Manning.  I think the Hampton is the best of the hotels in the area, and one of my nieces is one of the managers.  After going to my room and unpacking, I decided to take a nap.  I had been up since 5 AM in the morning so a nap was certainly in order. 

I slept for an hour or so and decided to call my sister, Carlethia, who was in Atlanta for her husband’s family reunion. 

I then called Bobby and Sherial to let them know I was in town and to see if they would be going to the “meet and greet”, which is the part of the School Reunion that would occur on that Friday evening.  They were headed to Columbia on this evening, however, so we agreed to meet for Breakfast on Saturday Morning.  After agreeing to meet at 8 a.m. for breakfast, Sherial later texted me and suggested 9, since they returned later than planned.

I drove over to the local Wal-Mart to get some supplies such as water, soda, snacks (peaches), and other supplies.  I spend a lot time in hotels these days, but you can only bring so much on an airplane.  I don’t like those little tiny bars of soap that hotels provide, so when possible, I always buy a large bar, even if I wind up leaving it at the hotel when I leave. They are only 99 cents anyway and well worth the convenience.

After returning to the hotel, I decided that perhaps I should have a little dinner prior to going to the “meet and greet” because you never know what to expect at those events.  I walked over to Shoney’s because at least you could probably select the buffet which should provide more of variety of offerings.  There was a seafood buffet special on this day for only $9.99.

I returned to the hotel to prepare for the “meet and greet” which was to be held at the new St. Paul Elementary school.  I had assumed that the new St. Paul Elementary School would be near the old school.  I called Clarence to see if he would be attending but there was no answer to his phone.  I got onto 95 south and headed to exit 108, which is highway 102 leading to Summerton.  I decided to go by Clarence’s home anyway, just in case if his phone number had changed.  For some reason, Clarence has had many number changes over the last several years.  When I got to his home, although there was a car in the yard, it appeared that no one was home. I rang the doorbell but did not hear an immediate response, so I went back to my car.  As I was opening the door of my car, I heard Clarence’s voice.  

Clarence was planning to attend the “meet and greet” as well, so we decided to ride together.  As it turned out, it was a good thing that I did go by Clarence’s home, because my assumption about the new St. Paul Elementary school is near the old one was incorrect.  As a matter of fact, the new school is no longer in St. Paul at all, but is located on the same premises as the relatively new high school which, itself, is located on the outskirts of Summerton proper. 

At the “meet and greet”, you can register for Friday and/or Saturday event and pay the fee if you hadn’t already.  I had already paid via pay-pal and had my little computerized receipt in hand.  I tend to do almost everything I can on-line these days.

The “meet and greet” had a relatively small crowd, but it was still fun.  You get to talk to more people and share more stories than you would at the banquet.  Some of my relatives from the James’ side of my family were there, to include my very dear cousin, Evandy and her husband, Clarence.  Evandy is from the class of 73, and is a retired Philadelphia Police Officer/Detective, but she looks as youthful as a recent college graduate.

The food at the “meet and greet” this night was very good, perhaps better than what we would later have at the banquet.  I always enjoy talking to the “Ragin” family, who on this night included Darlene, Willette, and Maizie.   They enjoy me telling my little stories – I have many- and Darlene becomes so gleeful when I tell her about the time I first met her when she was in the 6^th and I was in the 8^th grade:  While in the 8^th grade, one day my friends and I had walked over to Scott’s Branch from the middle school to practice band, and as we were waiting in the Gymnasium, we saw this cute little girl with a ponytail shooting basketball for Mr. Spann.  She was actually pretty good.  She came over and introduced herself to me, perhaps because I was the one with the biggest afro, and little girls just loved cute boys with afros back then. Well, in any case, although I thought she was so cute, I was just too shy to talk to any girl back then, so I did not pursue it.  When I told Darlene this story back at the 2008 reunion, she said that it was one of the nicest things that anyone had ever said to her, especially because I remembered it in so much detail.  She knew I was telling the truth because she had stopped playing basketball, and she was so pleased to know that I remembered that she was pretty good. I also tell them story of when we first saw their sister Manzie, and how we were so impressed with Melvin Carter because we saw him talking to her.  We thought she was a teacher with her Angela Davis afro and sexy glasses, and we were like “only Melvin Carter could pull “that”!

I also enjoyed talking to Norman Billie’s sister, Ruby Pinnex, who would serve as Mistress of Ceremonies, and her daughter, who was trying to tell us that she was from the class of 75 with a straight face when she is actually from the class of 85.  Their family and my family have little moonshine history in common, and the stories are just wonderful.  When I was a kid, I would hide from my family’s connection to Moonshine, but nowadays, I truly relish the experience.

I was also able to talk to James Conyers, who was accompanied by his mother and his wife.  James and I graduated from the Morgan State University at the same time, and people always thought we were brothers.  I talked briefly with Furman Georgia, who is someone I had not seen in a very long time, and his sister-in-law (my long-time neighbor) Diane Doughty Georgia, also from the class of 75.  Diane’s mother, Ruth and my mother, Ethel Mae, were very good friends, so Diane will always be special to me.  She is the High School Guidance Counselor and serves on the City Council, whose dimples are just as cute as they were when she was 6 years old. I was able to speak briefly with Mrs. Adgers, who was a teacher at Spring Hill Elementary while I was there, and her daughter Naomi, who apparently does not remember that we were once neighbors and that she was a friend of my older sister before I started school. 

The next morning, I was at Shoney’s at 9 as I awaited Bobby and Sherial, Javon, and Audrey.  However, when Bobby left the house, he said Sherial was still asleep.  My wife and I are God Parents to their son, Javon, and we always want to know how he is doing in school, and his preparations for college.  I asked him if he had taken the SAT, but I had forgotten that he was just a rising junior and not a senior.  We wanted to ensure that he was planning to take the SAT much in advance, so that it would allow enough time for a re-take if it is ever deemed necessary.  These days, kids have so many more options and luxuries than we did 35 years ago.  While in High School they get to visit several colleges, which would provide a sense of what a college campus life is like.  I think that I had visited only one college prior to enrolling as a freshman, and that was when I accompanied my friend Clarence to Columbia one Saturday morning in 1974 to pick-up his sister, Thomasine, from Allen University.  I had not even seen the school I would be enrolling as a freshman until the day before registration, which resulted in a rather crude and rude awakening. 

After breakfast, I returned to my room in order to get ready for our class meeting, which was going to be held at the Scott’s Branch Elementary cafeteria.  When I got to my room, it was being cleaned by a former schoolmate, Theresa Oliver who was one grade ahead me but who I had known since I started the first grade.  There were two Theresa Oliver’s in our high school; one was dark complexion and one light.  This was the light complexion Theresa who went to Spring Hill Elementary while I was there.  She is such a sweet person, and we recognized each other immediately and I gave her big hug.  I am always a little self conscious when I see former schoolmates doing jobs that I am sure they would rather not be doing, but they do it with a great smile, nonetheless.  I always want them to know that I in no way will ever think less of them, and I certainly don’t feel superior to them in anyway. I make every effort to speak to them and let them know that I am still the same Jerome they knew many years ago, and my respect for them is truly based on my understanding of their inner qualities rather than any kind of economic status.

At around 11 on this Saturday Morning, I finally left the hotel and headed towards the class meeting.  When I drove up the street near Scott’s Branch Elementary, I pulled over and parked behind a Black Acura.   I saw two people standing near the entrance to the cafeteria that turned out be Sharon Oliver and Ronald Nelson.  I recognized Sharon immediately since she hasn’t changed much since high school; she even seems as if she is almost the same size almost 35 years later. The other person happened to be my long-time friend and neighbor Ronald Nelson. I was so surprised to see Ronald since I had not seen him since Miami hosted the event back in 1998, and I wasn’t sure if he was even aware of the School Reunion, and certainly not the class meeting.  Once arriving in the cafeteria, I was so happy to see many classmates I had not seen in many years.  I was so pleasantly surprised to see Arnett, although I forwarded her emails regarding the meeting as well as the reunion itself.  Arnett, Bertha Mellerson, and Betty McFadden are ladies I have known since the first grade.  And when I pulled in behind that black Acura a few moments earlier, I had that rather sneaky suspicion, and perhaps hope, that it would belong to Arnett; it was just my intuition that was later proven to be correct.  I have emailed Arnett over the past several years, but had not heard her voice since 1996, so it was so wonderful seeing her and others in all their glorious and physical presence. 

Although the crowd at our school meeting was small, I think we were genuinely like family, and it was as wonderful as a family reunion, and truly showed why our class of 1976 is one of the more memorable classes to have ever come through our high school.    I think we are all so pleased at the successes of others, and we genuinely grieve the suffering and struggles of those who may not have been quite as fortunate. 

Our meeting was in the Cafeteria and my first impression was just how small it seemed.  I was trying to envision how it was possible for such a small facility to accommodate all the high School and Elementary school students back in the day.  Our class alone was nearly 200 students, so how could that be? I would say, however, that it did not seem small to me back then, but it certainly does now! To be frank, it seems that everything seems smaller these days.  Even the distance from location to location seems shorter.  I used to think that it would take nearly 2 hours to drive from the airport in Charleston to my home in Davis Station, but now it is not much more than an hour, if that, especially with my “heavy foot.” 

Anyways we had our meeting and began planning for own class 40^th reunion which will happen in the next several years.  (I just can’t believe it’s been nearly 40 years).  We mixed our meeting with little fun stories from our past and present which included such things as  Arnett reminiscing about the fear she had of one of our elementary classmates (I was afraid of her too,) whose name I will not mention; Debra reminiscing about once as a kid she was , inadvertently, chasing some lady with a butcher knife; and Earl Wilson talking about the challenges of coming up in the Wilson’s house-hold as a kid with brothers who could probably be used in a few of those episodes of “Scared Straight.”  

After the meeting, we bided each other good-by and went our separate ways, knowing that some of us would also be getting together for the School Reunion Banquet that was scheduled for later Saturday evening.  However, I do think that we have built a platform from which to launch our class website which would be used as a tool for communication, planning, enhancing camaraderie, and hopefully positively affecting the overall quality of life of fellow classmates.

The School Reunion Banquet was held in the New St. Paul School Gymnasium.  Many of the tables were reserved even though there were enough seats for everyone.  Reserving a table would ensure that you are able to sit at table with family and friends, if you so desired, but it did cause some bit of discomfort for those who did not reserve a table like me.  Of course, I always show up early, so despite not having reserved a table I am usually able to sit almost where I want to.  However, most people were amenable to allowing others to sit at their tables because very often a table that could seat 8 people was only reserved for 4. All in all, I think everyone was comfortably seated in the end and we spent much of the time walking around and taking pictures in any event.

The event was certainly enjoyable, and the food was acceptable, even if the food at the “meet and greet” was just a little bit better.  I was happy to be seated with an old friend, Patricia Pringle, who is the Clarendon County Auditor.  Patricia, Clarence and I worked together one summer, and she has been our dear friend ever since.  We worked together at the feed-a-child program in Rimini during the summer of 1977.  Clarence and I would drive together, so one day towards the end of work, I was sitting inside Patricia’s 1965 burgundy Chevy Impala talking to her and her sister, when Patricia took off with me in the back seat of the car.  She drove all the way to her house, which caused Clarence to have to come to her house to pick me up.  As we were driving, I kept saying to her “where are you taking me, where are you taking me”, and she was just laughing and driving with me looking out of the back window to see if Clarence was following.  She is, however, such a lovely person, and a much-cherished friend.

Pictures were being taken by Sammy Levy who has turnout to be an excellent photographer.  When we were kids, I never knew that Sammy had an interest in photography, but he and his family have built quite an impressive business and my guess is that he was doing well on that night.  There were group pictures, class pictures, family pictures, etc!  Whatever sort of picture you wanted, Sammy could provide it, and the pictures were available within a short time in the specific size requested. 

There was one family picture that sparked my curiosity, however.  I noticed that my former neighbors, the Nelsons, taking a family picture.  In that picture I saw Ronald & wife, Ronald’s mother, Ruth, his sisters, Cassie and Iris.

There was no guest speaker on this night but there was a guest singer, who is from the class of 75, and someone who also was in elementary school with me.  I did not recognize her at first, partly because her name is now Dr. Evelyn Murray Drayton, and I was not aware of her married name.  Also, I did not know that she sang, and did not know that she was a writer who has written five books, mostly with a religious theme to include her story about how she had to fight off witchcraft in church.  I only recognized who she was when she came to our table.  I did buy one of her books “Beyond our Scars” which she was apparently selling from her purse on this evening.

The next day according to the reunion itinerary, it indicates “Worship Services (Church of your choice)”.  They always include Sunday on the itinerary, even though the events are over on Saturday. 

I was debating whether I would be going to the Church of my choice or any church whatsoever.  But I realize that if I wanted to see family members who I had not seen, then I needed to head over to New Light.  New Light is the church I was raised in and the church that I saw every day for many years since we lived so close.  Also, I was Sunday school teacher there from the time I was 12 years old and was teaching the senior class when I was only 15 until I went away to college.  Each time I visit, I am always asked to introduce myself, as if everyone does not already know who I am, with the church being so small and filled with mostly family members.   Also, there is always a bit of theater in the church, which inspires many of my stories. 

Well I did go to New Light, and had to introduce myself as usual, which is something I have become quite good at since I have to do this all the time. In my current job, I am always visiting other companies, and one of the first things we do is introduce ourselves which requires presenting a bit of biography.  Therefore, I have had to introduce myself to strangers in such places as Germany, India, Indonesia, Ecuador, Toronto, Amsterdam, and almost every state within the U.S.  As a result, the art of self-introduction has become second nature. 

On this Sunday one of my former classmates was delivering the sermon.  Reverend Johnny Lee Lawson is the Pastor at New Light, but he was absent on this day due to his own illness and the illness of his wife, Elanora.  Therefore, one of my high school classmates, Pastor Delores (Jones) Parker,  was offered the privilege of delivering  “God’s Word” on this day, as the other pastors who are actually my sisters (Ethel and Denise – their mother raised me) did most of the coordination.  

Her sermon was based on Isaiah 38:1 “Set your house in order for you shall soon die”.  She compared her own ordeal to Hezekiah who was presented with a message from God through Isaiah that he would soon die and needed to get his life in order”.  She seemed to be indicating that just as Isaiah was giving Hezekiah a message from God, she too had received a message from God to return to New Light. 

After church I went by my cousin Suzy’s house again to see if she wanted to go to dinner. She was not home but her older sister Glenda (Dunk), who now lives with her, was.  Dunk always has lots of history about our family and various occurrences in our little town and it is always wonderful talking to her since I am such an historical buff.   If you want to know anything about people who have lived in Davis Station, then Dunk is a good person to talk to.  I decided to treat her to dinner at the Golden Corral in Sumter, which offers a decent buffet in the area.  During the drive and during dinner it was wonderful tapping into her memories about our family’s history which also confirms some of my own memories.  I remember once telling a story about a murder which occurred in Davis Station.  This murder occurred before I started school, but I recall seeing the two men just hours before one of them killed the other.  Not only did I see them, I recall the younger man showing a new gun to an older man who he would later kill that Friday night.  Because I seem to be the only one in my family who remembers the incident, I am sure some people may have thought I was making things up.  However, in 2008 I was telling Suzy about this story and the names of Individuals involved.  Suzy asked her older sister whether she recalled the incident and Dunk said “yes”; Dunk even indicated that the two men had also visited their home just prior to the actual shooting.  Suzy and I are the same age, but she was too young to remember this incident, but I remember it in detail.

On Monday morning, I had breakfast at the hotel, which was not bad for a hotel of this class.  The breakfast was not like the buffets at Marriott’s and Hiltons, but it was at least free.  

After breakfast, I returned to the airport in Charleston for my trip back to Newark.  Nowadays I do spend a lot time in both large and small airports all over the world, but none of them provides that special sense of homecomings and memories as the very small ones in South Carolina.  

Back in April I shared a very long story about my second trip to India.  This, however, is my story about coming home, and I truly enjoy sharing my memories with family and friends.  I remember all these things because I am truly an “old soul”.

As indicated in Langton Hughes’ poem “The Negro Speaks of Rivers”:  I have known rivers: I have known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of blood in the human veins.

“My soul has grown deep like the rivers”. 

Jerome Pearson

Wayne, New Jersey

by Jerome Pearson

1992

Brother Jake Walker ran the only funeral home in the town of Summerton, South Carolina.  It was called “Jake Walker Mortuary”.  Every time you went past that funeral home you would see the old black hearse parked in the opened garage.  It was never clear why Big Jake wouldn’t close the garage door. I guess it was considered some form of advertisement to have that big ugly hearse parked up in there with those big ugly fins just smiling at everyone, as if to say, “that’s right, I’m gon get you next!” 

Everyone says Big Jake doesn’t know what he is doing no way!  There was that time when Jake dressed a fellah for a funeral and forgot to put a necktie on him.  But folks didn’t complain much.  It was thought that if God wanted Leroy to have a tie on his final day, then he would have instructed Jake to do it.

Jake was a serious businessman, but he was also a crook!  He was known to take advantage of gullible souls.  As example, one lady didn’t have the money to pay for her husband’s funeral. Jake asked her to give him what she had, and the rest would be paid on installments.  And these installments did not always occur in the form of money. She had to come by once a week and these transactions would occur in one of the back rooms. Jake and the widower were the only people present; all other potential witnesses in the place remained silent!

One Friday night, me and a few of my buddies decided we would to try to slip around back of the funeral home and see what Big Jake and Reverend Paul Gibson were doing to those bodies.  Paul Gibson was Jake’s helper and he was also a part time preacher because he didn’t have his own church.  My grandmother said that God never called Paul to preach in the first place, and that’s why he doesn’t have a church.  He had probably run across some hard luck awhile back; because whenever things aren’t going right in people’s lives, next thing you know is that they become a preacher. The ministry is filled with former sinners. Of course, it has a few current sinners too.

But anyway, we decided that the Friday prior to Halloween would be a good time for us to try sneaking in the back of the funeral home because Mrs. Lena Johnson passed on Wednesday, and they would more than likely be working on her body. 

Around eight pm that Friday evening, I along with my three friends, Leroy, Billy, and Daniel, gathered up enough courage to take the stroll down Main Street in the direction of the funeral home.  We decided we would walk past first and scout the place out like they do on the TV westerns.  Well, none of us wanted to scout alone, so we decided to all go together.

It was the month of October, and it was getting cold and getting dark early.  I heard that some crazy fools changed the time and we had to move our clocks back one hour the previous Sunday.  Some folks don’t have nothing better to do than play with clocks; next thing you know they will try changing the seasons, like switching Christmas to summer and having the Fourth of July in the winter.

As we walked past the front of the building, we could see a light on in the front room.  We decided if we could slip behind the building, then perhaps we could find an entrance and maybe sneak a peak at them working.  After walking nearly three hundred yards past the funeral home we turned and walked across an old field which allowed us to approach the building from the rear. Throughout our journey we were laughing and teasing one another about who was scared and who wasn’t, but as we got closer, we all put up a more serious tone. 

We had never seen the building from the rear and were surprised to see how mysterious it looked back there.  There were several old black cars parked side by side.  They were old Cadillac’s; probably cars that Jake used to transport the families of the deceased during a funeral.  And all those cars had those big, ugly, 1960 something fins.

When we got within ten feet of the funeral home, we noticed a small stairway that led down towards the basement.  At this time Daniel decided that maybe we should turn around and go back, but we started calling him a chicken and a scary cat, so he had to change his mind again.  As the leader decided to take the initiative to start walking down the stairs first.  The other guys followed me. 

The steps descending to the basement were very narrow and squeaky, so we had to walk real softly and slow.  When we made it to the bottom of the steps, we stopped in a small foyer which led to a hallway in the basement.

The hallway was very dark, but I could see light coming from an adjacent room.  I then tipped-toed in the direction of the light, as the others followed.  I stopped about ten feet from the doorway leading into the room with the light.

Suddenly, I heard some noise, sounded like conversation, so I got on my knees and crawled closer.  When I got within five feet, I could see diagonally into the room.  I could then see Reverend Paul Gibson sitting at a table with bottle of whisky and a big pistol lying beside the bottle.  He had a crooked smile on his face, as if he had done something wrong.

It appeared that he was busy counting money, because he had a stack of bills in his left hand and he was moving them to the table with his right hand.  Every now and then, he would lick his fingers like people do when they’re counting lots of bills. I then heard another voice, which appeared to be that of a woman.  The woman walked over to where Rev. Gibson was sitting and kissed him on the lips.  It was the strangest thing, because I could swear that woman looked just like Mrs. Lena Johnson, who was supposed to be dead. 

Then Big Jake walked over to Rev. Gibson, and as he did so, he sort of glanced out into the hallway.  My heart skipped a beat because I thought he saw me, but it was probably that crossed eye of his. Sometimes his right eye would be pointed in one direction, but he would be looking straight ahead.  He handed Reverend Paul some more bills, and the Reverend began counting those as well. 

Jake then turned towards the woman and said: “Now Lena, when the family and friends file past you at that funeral this coming Sunday, don’t you bust out laughing at those silly fools who think you’re dead and in heaven!” 

JP 

1992

by Jerome Pearson

It was a Cadillac Hearse. I was enjoying the smooth ride. Apparently General Motors had improved its suspension system, because we floated over every bump in the pavement, as if we were a boat on a calm sea. I’m not sure if it was a Coup de Ville or Fleetwood Brougham.

But, as we backed up into the graveyard, I could feel some of the bumps that aligned the entrance. The driver must have noticed the bumps too, because he backed more slowly over the second bump. After twisting our way into the cemetery, we suddenly came to a halt. I know the driver got out because I could hear his door slammed.

For the next 30 minutes, I’m not sure what happened, I could only imagine. Meanwhile, I was busy scratching my face because the silk that insulated the casket caused me to itch. Plus the ugly blue suit that was bought for me was too warm, in spite of the cool October weather. That’s the problem with cheap suits. They could have gone to Nordstrom or Saks, or even Macy’s but they chose a Wal-Mart sale. As you can see, I wasn’t well thought of. That’s because I, to be frank, don’t think much of others either. Perhaps that explains why I had done all of the terrible things during my life.

All of sudden the back door was jerked opened. I could feel the hearse lurch backwards. After about ten seconds, the casket was being pulled out. I braced myself, just in case if there were any abrupt motion that might cause me to butt my head. It is not widely known, but I don’t tolerate pain very well.

I was taken about ten feet, and I could hear the October winds blowing over the cemetery. Now, come to think of it, it’s a good thing that this suit is warm. I was told it gets cold down there. When my second cousin came back exactly two years ago, he gave me the low down on what to expect. The temperature is a little more extreme than what is generally experienced above ground, fluctuating from hot to cold.

Shortly, I felt myself being lowered, very slowly, then fast again, then an abrupt halt. I didn’t hear anybody crying as I was being lowered and I was happy. I have heard enough crying during my days. The next time I hear any crying, it had better be when I return. Then, they were throwing dirt over me, bidding me farewell, as if they will never see me again. But they will.

Later that evening after everyone had left the grave, I decided to climb back out of the casket. I left the suit in the casket so it would be available once I return after tonight’s adventures. I had a pair of old jeans, converse sneakers, sweat shirt, a mask and an old wool jacket hidden beneath the insulation. I stole them all from the funeral home last night, when the mortician had gone home. I also stole his knife.

My own family has all disowned me for what I did. They didn’t even give me wake. They say I give the Hampton family a bad name. I don’t see how killing 17 people and stealing that money off that Armor truck should classify me as a bad person. Oh, maybe it was because I did kill the two
drivers, also! So what, that only makes it 19. But there were the 9 rapes I forgot to mention; but they were nothing but skanks anyway. They should not have been looking at me in that teasing way women often do. What do they expect? I am only human; or may be I am not. The Judge said I wasn’t Human; the first Judge that is, but now he is one of those 19.

Sometimes my head hurts. Sometimes I feel just fine. I can calculate things better than most. I was going to be a mathematician. But I killed that professor who gave me a “B”. He should know better than give me B when I was smarter than he is. People always try to take advantage of you. But you have to stand up for your self.

When I was a kid, they had me in an institution; I don’t know why? I wasn’t stupid like those other fools in there. The Dr. who visited the place calls himself a Shrink. Said I have a high I.Q, but emotionally disturbed. Well, I am not going to say what happened to him. Let’s just say he is no longer practicing.

Before the trial, a Preacher came to my cell. He told me to give my life to the Lord. I asked him what for, why don’t he give his life, or I would give it to the Lord for him, or whoever. He didn’t come back.

Now I am walking down these dark streets. My head is hurting again. That succinylcholine they gave me as a final dose didn’t work. I had already put reversal in my system. It brings you back after anesthetization. I know pharmacy. I fooled them all.

Now I am coming back and I have all of those names in my notebook.

By the way, did I scratch your name off yet?

If not, better watch your back, and keep the Devil Down in the Hole.

Jerome Pearson