Family

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People from small towns waive.

Maybe it’s because they know everyone there; maybe they’re just being friendly. But, you just drive through any small town and you’ll get waived at by a driver passing you on a sleepy side street or even main street.

It’s just in their blood.

My dad always waived - right hand on the wheel, left hand holding a Pall Mall cigarette. If his hand was empty, then he’d be holding a cup of a sugary, milky, coffee mix - stuff.

Maybe my dad waived because he too was from a small town. Sure, he was born in a city and all, but his mamma moved him to a small town, found him a daddy, and let him grow there in that tiny Alabama town where people waived.

He also learned, in that small town, the fine art of drinking copious amounts of corn whisky and smoking the aforementioned cigarettes. Maybe life was a little tough on a little red headed boy whose momma had to find for him a daddy.

At 16 or 17 he lied to join the Army – just in time for World War II. Maybe he wanted to see the world and get out of that small town; maybe that small town wanted to encourage him to go and explore the world.

Regardless, the U.S. Army afforded the newly minted private from Silas, Alabama the once in a lifetime opportunity to elevate his drinking and smoking skills to new levels.

I heard they made him a driver for a general, and a mechanic, a drill instructor, and taught him the fine art of jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. I can see him waiving at passing drivers when he’s driving around the general.

He waived the Army goodbye after a few rambunctious years.

But, when the war was over he returned home to a short lived marriage. Who knew a young girl was supposed to remain faithful while her husband was off getting shot at and jumping out of good airplanes.

It has been more than 20 years since he left us. But I can still see him clearly, driving that blue and white 1974 Chevrolet Pick-up truck with white tool boxes on each side. He’s holding a cigarette and a large Styrofoam cup of coffee is precariously situated in front of him – sloshing occasionally all over the dashboard. He takes a puff, stretches back against the seat, and waives at the approaching car.

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