One of my earliest memories.
The place? Southeastern Meats.
I was Seven.
Walking through the doors, I was holding my momma’s hand.
We were shopping for more than just “Meats.” They had other items there.
“Wait, momma!” I heard a noise. Well, not just a noise but a voice.
“Momma, stop!” I looked around. I could hear something familiar. Very familiar to me.
Mom pulls me toward her.
“No, Momma! Stop it. Stop it.” I said just like that.
“That voice. I know that voice. Where is it coming from?” I thought.
There was a Management Office that was up on a platform with windows at the top of the office so the manager could look out and see the whole store.
I ran to the office door and listened for the voice.
“Momma, momma! He’s in there! He’s in there!”
“Who’s in there?” Mom asks.
“Him. Him! The man! Cowboy Hat man! It’s him! It’s him!”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, son. Who’s in there?”
“The Country Boy Man!”
Mom listens in at the door. “It’s him, alright.”
If you know who I am talking about, you know you cannot mistake his voice for anyone else’s.
Mom politely knocks on the door. —My mother would do almost anything for her kids.
The door opens. My eyes widen. It was him! “Country Boy Eddie.”
“C’mon in here, little fella!”
I remember running up to him and hugging him on his legs. He was very tall for me. I mean, I was seven, you know.
And for eight to ten minutes, “Country Boy Eddie” took time out of his life and talked to me. Me!
And in that moment, I had never heard of Spina Bifida. Nor did it matter that I was wearing a diaper.
The “Cowboy Hat Man” was talking to me.
He made me laugh.
He hugged me.
He cared.
God Bless You, Country Boy Eddie.
Rest In Peace.
Thank you for… …Thank you.
Country Boy Eddie
12/13/1930 — 1/13/2023
