North and South

 

In my book, Florida, A Love Story,  Catherine, a northerner, is puzzled by the lack of acceptance when she and her husband moved to Central Florida in the 1800s.  

She thinks she's won over her neighbors when they're invited to a picnic.  She, in turn, invites Joe Black and Naomi, who work for them, to attend as well.  They decline and tell her why this is a bad idea. 

Catherine couldn't separate the teaching All are acceptable in God's sight" from the realities of who would be acceptable at a cracker picnic. 

Later on she is devastated and confused when the five pies she had brought were not touched, except by her husband, Sam. Her neighbor set her straight by telling her Crackers don't eat food fixed by Yankees.

Fast forward a hundred years or so, to the late 1970s.  My husband, Ken, a United Methodist Minister, had great success serving as an urban minister in South Florida for nine years.  He was recognized as a strong bridge builder.  So he was "rewarded" by being asked to move to Orlando to facilitate a difficult change for two downtown churches, located less than a mile from each other.  One was Broadway, the other was Concord Park.  Both churches had lost members, mostly due to urban flight.  Both church buildings were lovely, especially Broadway.  

Ken's assignment was to merge the churches.  The district superintendent at that time said that it was crazy to do anything else.  There were even folks who lived next door to each other attending different Methodist churches. 

Apparently the districts superintendent had forgotten our nation's and our denomination's history.   For well over 100 years, the Methodists were divided into North and South churches.  The original issue, of course, was slavery. But the Civil War did not change this split.  Many southern congregations were caught between church rules and state law.  

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Within the first few weeks, Ken knew that these congregations would never merge.  Broadway was a "North" church and Concord Park was a "South" church.  The people who lived next to each other  attended different churches for a reason.  

We were at Broadway and Concord Park for four years.  During that time both congregations grew, especially Broadway.  During that time Broadway suffered a devastating fire.  Ken encouraged the Concord Park congregation to invite the Broadway folks to meet with them while the year long repairs were made.  They kindly made the invitation but there was no way they'd meet together.  Concord Park worshiped was at 9:30 and Broadway at 11:00.

Knowing our United Methodist history helps me remain hopeful for our denomination's future as we struggle with the question of  All are acceptable in God's sight" from the realities of who would be acceptable at a cracker picnic or a United Methodist Church.

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"That's Enough Boys"

 

Shecky Greene died last week at age 96.

Who was Shecky Greene?  Early on he was a stand up comic and was frequently Frank Sinatra's opening act.  

Many times, when I was invited to speak at a corporate event of some kind, it would be explained to me that I was to go on first to warm up the audience before the experts in the various fields would do the serious stuff.  

As a way to let that person know that I understood exactly what they wanted from me I would respond by saying.  "Yes, I get it.  You want me to be Shecky Greene to (your company's) Frank Sinatra."  They almost always laughed and said, yes, that's what we want.  Because 40 or 50 years ago, most people knew the reference.  

Most people also knew that Greene and Sinatra had a continuous relationship and how they both hung out with thugs.  And Sinatra was famous for having thugs for body guards.   Sometime, during these decades from long ago, I heard a story about how Frank Sinatra saved Shecky Greene's life in a back alley one night in Miami Beach......by saying "that's enough boys!"

I thought it was hysterically funny and shared this story in my own "stand up" several times.  Most times it went over but, as time passed, much of the the audience didn't get the reference.  

It was an intriging story about Frank Sinatra, who was a genuine movie star in the golden era of Hollywood, and one of the finest singers of his era; but also liked to have his bodyguards beat people up on a regular basis.  

While I loved sharing it, I never knew if this particular story was true.  That is until last week when I read the following words of  Shecky Greene in his obituary. 

Frank Sinatra?  Heck of a guy - real prince.  Saved my life once.  We were doing a show at the Sands, and between sets, I took a break in the parking lot.  Next thing I know three guys are working me over real good.  Then I hear Frank say, "OK, boys, that's enough."

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Real Stories

It's been a joy to have discussions about my new book Florida, A Love Story.

Set in the 1800s, it is an exciting, fast paced story of old Florida.  The history is real but the story is fiction. 

Or is it?

Many of the events in Florida, A Love Story happened to me - but not all in Florida.  In the late 1960s my husband, Ken, and I, and our two preschool children, left Florida and headed to Georgia where he attended Candler School of Theology at Emory University.  For the first two years Ken was a "student" pastor in North Georgia. We had a circuit of three churches, Bold Spring, Trinity and Liberty.  Yes, Ken was a circuit rider.   

We were life long urbanites with a civil rights background one week and the next week were were living in a church parsonage in the deep south.  And Ken's new name was "Preacher."

This experience was truly like stepping back in history. 

The very first day we arrived we visited a home where a man had died the day before.  Not only were we greeted by family members in the parlor but he was there as well, in a home made coffin in the middle of the room.  No funeral home.  They buried him the next day in the graveyard next to the church - after the "preacher" said a few words.  

It was on the back porch of the parsonage that I discovered a bag of beans and had no idea what to do with it until I discovered it was black eyed peas (just like Catherine did in the book.)  

Sometime during that two years a racist (his description) ax wielding Lester Maddox was running for governor against Bo Calloway.  We voted in the church building.  There was absolutely no privacy. Every person knew how we voted.  But if that wasn't enough, when the weekly paper came out they recorded the count.  87 votes for Maddox, 2 for Calloway.  (Just like the experience Sam had in the book.)

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The two year experience of living in North Georgia was good for us.  We learned to love these people - with whom we had very little in common and they were very excepting of us.  However I'm sure they thought of us much like the community of Oconee thought of Catherine and Sam.  "It's like the dang king and queen of England decided to take up ranching' in the middle of the swamp! They don't know nothin' about nothin'."

When we visited the smallest of the three churches on the circuit, Liberty, we made sure we went to the bathroom before leaving home because Liberty had no running water, and only an outhouse for those in need.  The kids and I entered the church when we arrived and sat on the right with the rest of the women.  Ken stayed outside with the men who were hanging around their old trucks, plus one family always came in a horse drawn buggy.  At the beginning of the last hymn, that we sang by "lining," the men entered and sat on the left.  

Yes, this is exactly the same situation Cole encountered  during his short stent as a circuit riding preacher in the 1800s. 

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Cowboy Movies

 

When I was a kid my little brother, Paul, and I went to the movies every Saturday and sometimes Sunday as well.  We were each given 25 cents.  15 cents for a ticket, and 5 cents for a bag of popcorn; one for each feature.  We both loved cowboy movies.  And that's mostly what we saw. The movies were called Westerns.  Cowboys were in the West; Texas, Wyoming or Utah mostly.  And there was the "Gunfight at the OK Coral' that took place in Tombstone, Arizona.  These were serious cowboys.  But our favorites were Roy Rogers and Gene Autry who were singing cowboys.  

But in my new book, Florida, A Love Story, we learn that:  

Orange County in Central Florida was the largest cattle-raising area in the United States, including Texas. And during the last quarter of the nineteenth century, cattle raising continued to grow in importance....Florida, a cattle baron's magnet with its open ranges, would be one of the last cattle states to adopt fencing laws. 

Who knew?

We've had fun promoting the book.  My publisher, editor, and I were recently invited to speak on a podcast.  Our editor, Trish, told about how, when she was little, she and her brother would go to see cowboy movies every Saturday, like Paul and I did, only with a little different twist.  Trish's brother had a horse so she and her brother rode the horse every Saturday to see the cowboy movies.

A nice added touch. 

Thanks to all of you who've bought the book.  If you'd like a copy, the easiest place find it is on Amazon. 

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