Paradox

My friend Dedra is wanting a pair of white overalls.

I don’t know why.

She lives in the country and wacks weed as a lot of country people do.

When we were talking this morning she couldn’t wait to stop so that she could go wack more weed.

I don’t understand country girls.

She’s also a teacher which is a paradox.

Weed wacking teachers just don’t seem right.

Then again, the teachers who meant the most to me in my life wacked weed ... Bill Herrin in High School ... Dr. Shriver and Dr. Pressley in college ... Dr. Owens and Dr. Francisco in Seminary … they were all weed wackers.

But none more so than Dedra.

She’s a weed wacking fool.

But I love her anyway.

How can I not?

I live on Tybee Island where weed is as common as salt air. All of my closest friends are weed wackers … none more than the incredibly famous Johnny O.

I worked at Union Mission all of those years and whenever I showed up to work sick, homeless guys would get all concerned.

“Rev? You ok? You sick? Hold on! I’ll be right back. I’ve got something that will make you feel better right now.” And a homeless guy would go running towards his locker and bring me stuff. Actually several homeless people would and I would stand there coughing my head off surrounded by hands full of … weed.

My friend Mitch is learning how to play bass guitar. You got to wack weed to do
that. His eyes droopy anyway. You can tell.

Jeremy, or J-Luv as he is known on the island, and my brilliant daughter-in-law Marie are here with me now. He’s starting work on his Ph.D. and is a tenured professor at a college. I haven’t asked but I know … they’re weed wackers.

My daughter Chelsea remains in London, held in captivity by a student at Georgia Tech, who is studying abroad because of a history of wacking weed.

My dear Shirley has weed growing all over her yard.

Goddess eats it.

Which brings me back to Dee’s white overalls.

She wants to wear them without a bra.

I don’t know why.

I’ve never understood country people.