Entering Conecuh County. That’s what the little green sign reads, off Highway 31. I’m going north, passing through a small sliver of the county. I love Alabama.
A few weeks ago, I was driving to Birmingham, I listened to an audio book. The narrator spoke with an accent like a New Jersey paperboy. He pronounced Conecuh as “Koh-NEE-koo.”
Now entering Butler County. Wingard’s Produce Stand. B&H Cafe. Dollar General. There’s the McKenzie water tower.
And, God said, “Let there be kudzu.” I love kudzu. I planted some in my backyard in hopes that one day it would swallow my house. Everything looks better swallowed in kudzu.
Georgiana is eight miles away. I love it, too. I’ve visited the Hank Williams boyhood home in Georgiana too many times.
Anyone who knows me knows I love Hank. It goes back to childhood.
My father’s workbench. A radio. Hank, blaring from a small speaker while he changed the oil.
My favorite part of the Hank museum tour is the underside of the house. Miss Margaret says Hank used to practice his guitar
“It was cool down there,” says Miss Margaret. “He’d sit on an old car bench-seat to avoid the heat.”
Miss Margaret. I love her, too. She is old. Half her face is paralyzed. Her accent sounds like a Camellia garden on the Fourth of July. I wish she would adopt me.
Georgiana also has Kendall’s Barbecue joint. “Love” is a weak word for Kendall’s. I WOULD tell you more about this place, but someone wrote me an ugly letter last week, saying:
“You talk about Kendall’s TOO MUCH! I'm from Texas originally… I KNOW good barbecue, Alabama barbecue SUCKS, man!”
I understand Texas is beautiful this time of year. I’ll bet they’d throw a nice party if you went back.
I’m passing the Greenville and Pine Apple exit. Greenville is a town like Mayberry. I love it. Pine…