R.I.P. 124 Miller Lane

I was driving the back roads home this fine Sunday afternoon after playing a festival with The Band up in the central part of the state. We’d had an extremely successful weekend and we might have even picked up an extra partner – or at least we’re hoping. But the response to our music was very positive and so we were all riding high. It was a nice time.

I love these drives.

I need these drives,,,

they offer a change of scenery and perspective; a way to recharge my batteries and think outside the box. They’re also a great time for catching up on what I call ‘phone correspondence’ without the clock breathing down my neck as it does during the week. And while some folks can’t abide them, I Love a road trip – even a mini one.

I noticed on my phone, the annunciation: “You have new Picture Mail!” and hit the button.

How nice, I thought. It was from my sister, Mighty Moe, who still lives in our hometown with her husband, along with 'World’s Smartest Nephew’. A slide show – by text message! What’ll they think of next? I’d supposed the pics to be of my nephew involved in sports or some church choir activity, but not for long.

At first they were a bit confusing – a grey mass of what appeared to be smoke and trees, all blurred in together. But then it took only a brief moment to recognize the steps leading up to the front porch and foundation of what was once my parents' home and the house where I grew up.



Talk about memories flashing through your mind all at once – wow….almost too much to process. I could go on and on about the all ‘nearly’ all-nighters my parents would throw for the old-timer musicians who taught me how to play, or all of us kids at one time or another bringing home the ‘newest’ love of our life to subject them to the meeting of the Miller clan – bless them all; the countless Sunday dinners around the table - and I know that all of us have clear recollections of the last time we drove away from the house, Mother waving to us from the front porch as we backed out of the drive – each of us wondering if this would be the last time.

The fire is supposed to have begun around 2:00 a.m. My brother was the first to be notified by a friend.

“Louie?? I was just listening to the police scanner in my bedroom, and they say there’s a house fire up on Miller Lane.. think it’s your folks’??”

(Now, before I go on – no, this is not a misquote. This is Kingston, Tennessee. And it’s just not uncommon for someone in my hometown keep a police scanner in their bedroom - OR, better yet, to be listening to it at 2:00 a.m.)

So up he ‘got’ and pulled on his drawers – (not makin’ this up!) as he only lives about half a mile away, and looked out toward the hill to see the flames - about three hundred feet high, from several accounts. A sinking feeling came over him, and he knew instantly: “Yup, that’s The House”, and drove up to greet the fire department.


My brother and two sisters – a set of triplets, incidentally – have had ongoing interactions with a neighbor who has been aggressively trying to purchase the property. With each refusal to sell, this party would make some snide comment; something along the lines of “Well, let’s just hope you keep those tax notices up to date, that is, if they don’t get lost in the mail.”

This person had even spoken to my brother again, just the day before the flames, about the possibility of purchasing the property – in that pragmatic, caring, neighborly way that they have…. My brother explained that at this point he most certainly did not see that happening as he would be moving back into the house in the next few weeks to do some remodeling, making it ready for rental. The frustrated neighbor walked away in disgust, shaking its head.



This afternoon, as I he and I discussed possible causes, he assured me that it couldn’t have been electrical, because the power had been off for quite some time… and so we all can’t wait to hear the results of the investigation. This should be very interesting.

There is one other strange little item in all of this – and no story about a homestead fire in a small southern town would be complete with out this kind of peculiarity -

When the house went – apparently EVERYthing went. The garage, out buildings – everything. My brother said the fire was so hot that it melted his tools in the garage, just to give you some idea.

Now…

My mother had two bibles......one she kept on her night stand - always.....which my sister now has in safe keeping......but she had another study bible; one with large print and in which she kept notes in the wide margins for teaching Sunday school, etc..... this bible was in a box out in the garage.. (and why there I'll never know) But anyway, when my brother began to sift through the rubble late this afternoon, seeing basically nothing but ash all around ......melted tools, etc…

There on the ground… although slightly frayed around the edges, but readable, was Mother's study bible.

And not only that, but the old church bulletins with back notes she’d made on them as well, from years worth of sermons – all perfectly in tact.

At first I thought, rather smugly:

“This is a good sign.” “And it appears that Mom must have thought Louie needed to find these things Much more so than I.”

Because I’m not sure how, but knowing her as I did, I’m almost certain that since I don’t live in town that if I had been the chosen one she’d have found some way to mail them to me.

And then my brother said:

“In talking with the girls, we agreed that you should probably be the keeper of all the religious stuff. So I’ll just mail ‘em to you later this week.”

It didn’t hit me until after I’d hung up the phone.