Hometown Rankin - June & July 2017

Anyone that has ever lost a loved one
knows of the longing that comes with
wanting to somehow reconnect. In our
minds, we know they’re gone but we
still need to feel them to know that
they’re ok--- and neither time nor
distance can change that desire.
There’s an old saying that goes,
“When cardinals appear, angels are near.”
I’ve always been enchanted by that idea
as the red cardinal has played many
prominent roles throughout our history.
The notion that cardinals are messengers
of spirits exists across numerous
cultures and beliefs--- just ask anyone
that’s seen one when they
needed it most.
But truth be known, redbirds
are pretty common in this area.
They thrive in this habitat and while
I’d love to think that every time
I see one it’s a spirit-come-to-visit,
it’s just as easy for me to
imagine that it’s not.
In 2012, my grandmother died at the
age of 96. When it was time to clean
out her house, her youngest son from
California (and the sibling-declared
family-favorite among the four of her
children and two grandchildren) came
to Mississippi for a week to help with
the overwhelming task ahead. She had
lived in the same house in Yazoo City
for over 80 years.
There was stuff everywhere–in the
attic, in the garage, in drawers, and in
closets stacked from floor-to-ceiling.
Much of it I had meticulously sorted
over the course of several weeks and
months but when it came time to do
the final clearing, a lot of it was taken
to the curb. We worked for days to
ultimately prepare the house to be sold.
I called the waste management
company to arrange for a special pick-up
since it was just too much to leave until
the regular trash day. They needed a
heads up–it was a lot. Besides, I needed
to get back to Jackson and wanted to
know that it would be taken care of.
Early the next morning, as promised,
the garbage truck ran and around
mid-day I called my uncle to verify that
it had, in-fact, all been cleared away. He
walked outside and was just astounded
at what had previously been an absolute
massive amount of rubbish. The
mountain had been reduced to a single
random Christmas ball. Every bit of it
was gone.
As he leaned over to scoop up the
old faded ornament, he noticed
something shining in the grass. He
reached down to find a little gold heart
charm. The irony was not lost on him
that it was all that was left–and that he
had found it. He stuck it in his pocket
and went back inside.
His wife was in the kitchen at the
stove fixing a late breakfast. They were
still on California time and were slow
to get going, not to mention worn out
from the several days of hard labor,
prior. He reached in his pocket and
showed her the heart-shaped trinket
and when she flipped it over, she
noticed right away that it was engraved
with the name John. That was his name
–my grandmother’s youngest son–the
declared family favorite, which now
seemed somehow divinely confirmed.
Coincidence? Maybe.
Hometown Rankin • 47