A Piedmont Porchlight Story
The Coffee Cup was already full by the time I wandered in that morning. The 8:12 freight had come through right on schedule, and half the town had decided breakfast could wait until after the last boxcar rattled past.
Hattie set my coffee down before I even sat. “You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that means you’re rememberin’ somebody.”
Curtis Pope looked over the sports page. “Or plannin’ somethin’.”
“I ain’t plannin’ nothin’.”
Hattie folded her arms. “So, who’s on your mind?”
I smiled. “The nicest man in Piedmont.”
Curtis nodded. “I can name three.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about them.”
“No?”
“I’m talkin’ about old Charlie Benson.”
Curtis laughed before I got another word out. “Oh Lord… him.”
Hattie frowned. “I don’t reckon I ever knew Charlie.”
“You would’ve liked him.”
Curtis shook his head. “Don’t let Jim fool you. Charlie was a rascal.”
I pointed my spoon at him. “Exactly.”
Hattie looked from one of us to the other. “Now hold on. Was he nice… or was he a rascal?”
Curtis and I answered together. “Yes.”
She laughed. “You can’t be both.”
“Oh, Honey…” Curtis grinned. “In the South, that’s practically a requirement.”
I stirred my coffee. “Charlie would’ve stopped to help anybody with a flat tire. He’d also tell you he’d tightened every lug nut.”
Curtis nodded. “When he’d actually left one loose just to watch you come back askin’ questions.”
Hattie covered her face with the dish towel. “He did not.”
“He surely did. But he was sittin’ there with the jack already out. And a fresh pot of coffee waitin’.”
We all laughed.
“One time,” Curtis said, “Charlie put a rubber snake in my tackle box.”
“What happened?”
“I found it.”
“I imagine you did.”
“I jumped clean into Terrapin Creek.”
I couldn’t help myself. “You also dropped your fish.”
Curtis glared at me. “I’ve regretted that longer than the snake.”
Hattie was laughing so hard she had to steady herself against the counter. “Weren’t y’all mad?”
“For about five minutes,” I said.
“Then Charlie laughed. And some kinda way… you ended up laughin’ too.”
Funny thing about a real rascal. They never laughed at people. They laughed with them. The joke was never meant to leave a bruise. Just a story.
After a minute, Hattie asked, “So what made Charlie the nicest man in town?”
I looked out the window. “Because if your truck wouldn’t start… Charlie was the first one under the hood. If your roof leaked… he’d already be climbin’ the ladder. If somebody passed away, he’d be on the porch before the coffee finished perkin’.”
Curtis nodded. “He never missed a funeral. Or a fish fry. Or a chance to make somebody smile.”
Hattie smiled. “I think I would’ve liked Charlie.”
“You would’ve. But you’d have had to keep one eye on him.”
Just then the front door opened, and Earl Johnson walked in carrying a paper sack. He set it on the table. “Morning.”
“Mornin’, Earl.”
He looked at us. “What’re y’all grinnin’ about?”
“Charlie Benson.”
Earl laughed. “I still check my mailbox for frogs.”
Hattie blinked. “Frogs?”
Earl nodded. “Don’t ask. I’ve been afraid of paper sacks for thirty years.”
The whole Coffee Cup burst into laughter. Nobody bothered explaining. Some stories are funnier when everybody already knows the ending. I watched Earl pour himself a cup of coffee.
“You know…”
“What?” Curtis asked.
“I’ve met a lot of important people. I don’t remember half their names. But I remember Charlie Benson.”
“Why’s that?”
I smiled. “Because he left people with somethin’ to laugh about.”
Seems to me, that’s a mighty fine way to go through life. Just mischievous enough to keep folks smiling…
And kind enough that they always hoped you’d pull up another chair.
olbigjim 