STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

June and Bubba were from Mississippi. Bubba wasn’t his real name. I think he was the third Richard in his family, but he didn’t want to be known in graduate school, as “Richard the Third,” so everyone called him Bubba. He was the quintessential Southern gentleman, who loved his “bourbon and branch”--- and having a good time--- in equal doses. But anyone who mistook his easy manner for slow thinking was sorely mistaken.

As many a New Yorker has found out to his chagrin, the attorney or businessperson with a Southern drawl is nobody’s fool. As a matter of fact, Southerners, who want to lay it on thick before cinching a big deal, have been known to whisper to one another, “There’s room for only one Good-Ole-Boy at this party.”

Whenever we’d scrape together enough money to go to a restaurant, June was the person we’d ask to make reservations. Her honeysuckle voice, and that charming accent, always got us the best table in the house.

There’s a Southern tradition that every home should have a gun and a dog. I don’t know if they owned a gun, but they possessed one heck of a dog. As a matter of fact, Caballero was the biggest dog W.S. or I had ever seen. When we would go to their apartment, Caba would bark, fog up all of the windows, and then wag his tail. W.S. would always say, “I don’t know which end to trust. You go in first.”

Caba was too much dog for a mansion, let alone a small apartment; but he was considered a member of the family, so he had the run of the place. His playthings were everywhere, and June thought he had an ample supply of toys. However, she found out that she was mistaken on the day that Caba brought home a policeman. He had knocked him off his motorcycle. She had to repeat over and over, “No, darlin’ dog, you can’t keep him.”

None of us had the luxury of two cars, so usually Bubba dropped June off at work before going to campus. However, one day he had to drive to the other side of town early, so she volunteered to take the bus.

 It quickly turned into a blustery, rainy day. After waiting for 30 minutes, struggling with an umbrella (which had blown inside out) June was visibly relieved when the bus finally arrived. The door opened, and she shouted, “Are y’all going south?” And the bus driver replied, “Obviously, not as far as you want to go, Honey.”

It isn’t easy being a stranger in a strange land.

Esther Blumenfeld

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006