welcoming signs

On Sunday 1/12/14 Bill and I went out to Grammy’s Donuts. The little place, down at the end of our street, was hopping at 10 am, staffed with Asian and African American and white staff, some of the couples at the tables were also interracial. Great prices and very friendly place. When Bill went to pay, he asked if he should leave the tip at the table and the waitress asked if this was his first time there. He said his dad (as I walked up) had been there but he had not. She said “that’s your daddy?” with a warm smile. Because he was a first timer, he got a paper bag with two free donuts. (And as Bill is not a big fan of donuts, I scored them!). Bill and I talked afterward about the beauty of small businesses and how they can do little favors like that for customers.

After Bill and Bailey said adieu, I decided to drive over to the coast and enjoy the warm Sunday afternoon sunshine, 63 degrees on a very blue sky day with low humidity. The sky was reflected in the water, and for the first time in my short history here, the Gulf itself became a lovely light shade of blue.

At one point I got up from my folding chair to check out some movement in the water close to the beach. It turned out to be a small swirl of water as the changing tide rode over a small sand bar. It looked as if some fish might be churning in the shallow water and a fellow and his grandson came down to where I stood and asked if it was  redfish. We got talking. He introduced himself. He asked if I was visiting. When he heard my story, he told me about some local sights to take in, included in these were Mobile Alabama and an artsy little community outside Mobile called Fair Hope. He described a great restaurant near Pass Christian owned by one of the Cuevas family members.

We were looking out at the Gulf and my new host told me that what I thought was a barrier island, was actually a man-made reef post hurricane Katrina (piles of refuse taken out and dumped there to create a habitat for sea life). The reef is named after a local Congressman Gene Taylor, who was defeated by “one of those wing nut Tea party people”. I immediately felt all the more welcome. He described the new tea party congressman as another “empty suit”. Gene Taylor apparently lives in the Bay St Louis area, “a Democrat but very independent.”

In the full light of day you could see the moon rising in the east.  His grandson was getting a little anxious to move on. I mentioned that I was looking forward to doing some fishing but knew next to nothing about salt water fishing. He told me that he has a boat that he starts to take out in April and has a buddy who goes out more frequently and that if I were interested, he could give me a call sometime, “if nothing else you’d get a free boat ride out of it.” He pulled out his phone and asked for my number and email address. He told me where he lived and to stop by if I was in the area. He moved to Bay St Louis after retiring about two years ago. “We love it here.” He had lived for 60 some years in Hattiesburg, “100 miles up the road.” He introduced me to his grandson and then they went back up the beach to retrieve their bikes.

When I finally turned to leave, the light was somehow brighter, the sun warmer. It was still January.