Last Day in Ozark, Alabama (Short Sketch)

1889-1890

A day in Ozark, it would be the last day Joshua Jefferson would ever spend sin Ozark, Alabama; it was in November 24, of 1889. He was all of 86-years old, and in the 76-years he lived near Ozark, he had only been in the city a half dozen times, and to him that was enough, but his previous times, the times before this time, which would be the last time, was some forty-years ago, take or give five this or that way.
Today, November 24, was his birthday, and he came down to see Jordon, who worked at the main grocery store, they were going to surprise him, and go have a light lunch someplace, all three of them: Silas, Josh’s older boy was with his pa.
He, Josh, looked about the city, and came to the conclusion it had all changed, since last he was in town. There were now beggars on the street corners with tin cups, a blind man was selling pencils, store windows had toys in some, in others underwear, clerks as young as he was when he first came to America in 1813, found in New Orleans like a stray cat by Charles Hightower—were taking orders from customers. There was also a park, where forty-years ago, there was none. A new courthouse, perhaps not new, new for Josh, new since the last time Joshua was in town anyway; the more he looked about, the more he wanted to escape, it was like being on that ship that brought him to America, he was becoming suffocated.
He had come to Ozark, for three reasons: one, to see his boy, Jordon and he along with Silas to have lunch with; two: to pick up some medicine from Dr. Sharp, for Mrs. Hightower, she was getting sick again, each fall and winter, since her husband died some ten-years ago, she got sick more often, and at longer lengths, that is, it took longer for her to recover; and third, to see how Ozark was doing, the town, the city itself, how it might have advanced, and now he was sorry he came for that reason in particular, and for that matter, the other two reasons Silas could had taken care of, because Jordon was nowhere anyhow to be found.
Josh paused at the Grocery Story, where his son worked, there the owner was, he had met him once, which was the time he had asked Josh if Jordon could live in the back room part time, as he worked during the evenings on inventory and so forth, and be security for the place at night, at times the owner had large stocks of supplies. Josh told him, it was ok, but should he find out he was using this time to do un-virtuous things, he’d grab his boy by the ear and take him back home.
“Hello Mr. Jeff Madison,” said Josh, “I is lookin’ for my boy Jordon, I cant find him in your store, yous know where he is?” said Josh.
“He left for his lunch, perhaps in the park; Silas, you take your paw on over yonder there (pointing at the park) and I bet you two-bits he’s there!” said Mr. Madison.
“Sur’nough Mr. Jeff, I do as you say, and see if he be there,” said Silas, and grabbed Josh’s hand to walk away; but he wasn’t there to be found.

There was a chill in the November air, and Josh pulled up the back of his jacket, a new one Silas and Jordon put money in on, for Josh, he pulled up the back of the jacket so the cold air wouldn’t hit his neck, said, “I hate to be like them, they is like bees looking for their honeycomb, all done lost their way home I swear,” said Josh feeling the impact of the people around him, staring at him, even though Silas would have told him, had he asked, they are just passersby, like the birds in the air going from one tree to the next, it was all cultural shock, he would not believe they were not abruptly paying attention to him, it was all a new scene, and to diminish it, he needed to get out of town, and that is what Josh demanded, and left with no more of a search for Jordon, other than a quick look in the park.

When Josh got back home, back to the plantation, Dylan Hightower, Charles’ son, took the medication up to his mother, unknowingly at the time, she’d be dead in 42-days, January 4th, 1890, she, Aurea Hightower, would die in bed—weakened by the weather, the stress of life, she was always a tinge fragile anyhow, and life in general was hard on her but she was 69-years old, and that was not bad for the times.

Written 7-9-2008, Poem left out






















Across the Moon
1869

Charles Hightower died in the fall of 1869, eighty-years old, leaving Joshua Jefferson $3000-dollars, and four acres of land, starting from where his shanty was; Dylan Hightower, his son now 24-years old, the same age Charles was when he met Joshua, was in charge, his daughter Emma 19-years old, his wife, Aurea, being forty-eight years old, they would continue to live in the Plantation House, but the days of heavy planting, and big crops were over.
Emily Hightower, Charles’ mother, born 1755, died 1790, died young, at the age of 35-years old, it was her dream to see the plantation strong and in its glory, Charles brought it to that stage, and he always felt proud, for his mother’s sake to have done it. His wife Aurea, was different, her pride was in her children more so than her husband and plantation, like Emily’s was; priorities for each person are often times different. Emily always said, God was first, then her and her husband, and then the kids, and then the plantation; she had it down to a system, Aurea, although a good wife, and excellent mother, never really had a system.
Emily died one night in bed, no one around to watch her, the doctor was downstairs having coffee with a few shots of moonshine them, and not really paying that much attention to his patients symptoms, evidently Emily couldn’t breath for ten to fifteen minutes, because that was the time period the doctor had life his patient alone, who was in a crises mood. When she died, died because of the doctors, carelessness, her Husband, Charles Jason Hightower, shot him I cold blood, shot him dead right at the table where he sat and drank his coffee mixed with whisky, shot him three times in a wild stupor.
The judge said, “We would have hung him anyways, for incompetence, you saved the court time and money Charles, go and have a good day, case dismissed, under the old law of, your weapon misfired, while in a fit of anger, fired accidentally, cuz I’m sure that your intentions were not to kill him, even though he deserved hilling.”
And the judge after Hightower left the court room, told the scribe not to write down the first part of the minutes of what he said, and to let him read it afterwards, in case he needed to fix a few sentences.
Josh still helped around the place, he had come to the conclusion he was going to die there, right on that plantation, it would have been too much a strain for him to have to try and start over in life. He was familiar with everybody and everything in that area, it was his home, and no longer angry at the ship that brought him to America, Mr. Hightower had made-up for that, I guess. He had a new light on the matter in 1869. Silas would remain on the plantation, and do most of the work, and watch over his father, while Jordon spent most of his time at the Grocery Story in Ozark, as a clerk, sleeping on a cot in the back of the room, and flirting with the negress’ as they came by to say their hellos.

Asked Aurea, “Josh, do you want to attend the funeral?”
“It wont be necessary,” he said sadly, and walked away, not to be impolite, but he was starting his grieving process I believe, Aurea heard him mumble as he walked away, “I can sees it from my shanty.”
The old Hightower cemetery was on a slope in the fields, with a fence around it. Someday, whoever bought the plantation would perhaps have to move it back farther, unless they wanted to leave that little patch of land, with several trees around it where it lay, and it was like an oasis, in the middle of the field, and nobody wanted to cut all those tall trees down, and try to even out the mound.
Joshua and Charles saw each other almost everyday for 56-years, more than his wife, children, and business partners, more than anyone alive; it would be hard on Joshua, but once buried, once Charles was six feet under, he, Joshua would do what Charles told him to do: not look back.
“Flowers, I’ll pick some flowers,” said Josh to himself, out loud, he now was 66-years old; still spry and youthful, his bones strong, his face showed time had passed, but not bad.
That night after supper, he walked into the fields, up that mound, and looked at the gravesite, the hole had already been dug he noticed, folks were coming from town all day to say their goodbyes at the house, where his coffin lay in an upstairs guest bedroom. He took in a deep breath, almost breathless before, stood in front of the hole, its edge, dropped his flowers into it, geraniums, blurry eyed, he said, “He be a coming Lord,” his reed-stemmed pipe in one hand, a bible in the other, looking down into the hole, “Yessum, he be a coming soon, tomorrow I expect Lord, his wife Aurea, she say so (Aurea was behind a tree crying, silently, she noticed Josh there, but did not say a word, and perhaps Josh knew she was there, but he did not say a word) but he dead, and we all some day goin’ be dead, so I be seein’ him soon I expect; he done took me out of hell in New Orleans Lord, and he tell me one day, ‘Josh, don’t you look back, its all up front now, nothin’ back there son,’ Yessum, he say son, and I try not to look back, but sometimes I cant help it, but he right Lord, aint nothin’ back there worth looking for or at.”

And Old Josh looked up, and sure enough, He saw Mr. Charles Hightower, or at least he’d swear to it, “There he is, he a riding his horse across the moon,” and he said it in a tinge louder than a whisper, and his wife, hiding behind a tree, watching everything, looked up, and she also would have sworn, at that very moment, her husband was on an old spotted horse one they had in the barn that died a few weeks before Charles had, there, crossing the moon Charles and the horse rode. Perhaps just as figment of their imaginations, but for that one moment in time, it was real, a real greeting, perhaps from beyond the living.