Barbeque

Fixin': About to, preparing to. I'm fixin' to go to a barbeque.
Pickin': To play guitar

We've been here just two weeks and we were already invited to a local barbeque. Our neighbor's son, Ted, a cheerful musician in his early 20's came and picked us up country style. He rode over to our house and then we followed him to the party in our own car. It was Joseph's first time taking a right out of our driveway. We drove through soybean, tobacco and cattle fields. We drove past a small house with a giant flagpole waving a confederate flag. I know stuff like this exists, but seeing it can be scary. Fortunately confederate flag sightings do not occur often, contrary to what some Northerners might think. Within minutes we arrived at a house surrounded by fields and sky and parked on the lawn next to Ted's van.

The setting was exacly what I hoped a Tennessee barbeque to look like. Outbuildings abounded and were hung with strings of white christmas tree lights. A giant bonfire purred away and was surrounded by hay bale seats. The grill was bigger than my bathroom. It was constructed of cinderblocks and aluminum and it was roaring. I'm a vegetarian, but I love the smell of roasting meat. The house itself was old and modest. I later found out it was built on a "wood stump" foundation that had been a slave house.

We were promptly greeted by our cheerful young bachelor hosts. Our accents and apparently our clothes made it obvious that we were not locals, and we were proudly introduced to everyone as being from DC. Ted got to playing the guitar and Joseph and I got to making friends. Before too long the sun went down and I had settled into a conversation with one of the hosts' father, Bill. Don't tell him, but he was adorable. A carpenter who canoes on the river for fun. He offered us a boat and a tour whenever we were ready. He's also offered to come by and give us advice on our sloping barn. Like me, he was a lover of old houses. After using the work fixin' a few hundred times, he was kind enough to inquire if I understand that he wasn't going to be "fixing" anything. I told him I did understand this and that I was fixin' to use fixin' in my normal speech. This got a laugh out of him. Another fellow joined us and explained that he lived by the Bell Witch cave. I admitted that I didn't know what or where that was. Bill couldn't believe it. This wasn't just local legend, he'd found folks in Canada who knew about the Bell witch. He gave me the whole story and then we took turns telling ghost stories. This attracted another fellow eager to share his experiences with spirits. Local ghost stories by a bonfire, surrounded by farmland! An orange moon peeking just over the horizon, nestled in a tree. A perfect October evening.

Ted took a break from pickin' and called Joseph over to a cooler. Some new folks had arrived and brought with them some of their moonshine. Joe took a healthy swig from the bell jar. As the three of us walked away from the group Ted explained that you should never take Moonshine unless you know it's maker. He'd once been poisoned by the stuff in Kentucky and had gone blind for a day. And no, he did not go to a hospital. He was blind in the middle of Kentucky!

I found out that young, post college bachelor attire could include mesh basketball shorts and cowboy boots. And this was no schlep! His girl was easily the prettiest at the party. He was a pleasure to talk to, educated and intelligent. A genuinely nice guy. None of this should have surprised me and I don't like to make assumptions about people based on their dress, but there is something inherently badass about a man who rocks a mesh-short-cowboy boot-combo at his own party.

After Joe gobbled more than his fair share of barbeque, and I my fair share of roasted corn we departed. The sky was even darker by the cars with no light. The stars were bright and popping out of the sky. I try to remind myself to look up everynight. What is an underwhelming experience in the city is just breathtaking in the country. Best of all, it's free.