Impromptu Road Trip
Jamie, Amanda, and Dwight
What a day! Patrick and I drove to Atlanta today to see Jamie, and we stopped aling the way to get a chair from Dwight and have a drink and a bite with Amanda. What’s amazing about this is that Amanda and Dwight are both, separately, friends from my teenage years. Jamie and I were in first grade together and partied together in our early twenties. This was Patrick’s first time meeting each of them, which was super cool for me.
The reason for this last-minute drive to Atlanta and back was to see Jamie, who’s sorting through family photos and papers and being bombarded with memories, his family history in the oral tradition. Jamie isn’t a writer, but he is a storyteller. That’s where I come in—I speak both of these southern languages, the southern oral and southern literary traditions, so I will be Jamie’s translator or co-author. The stories are his and the voice will be his. Frankly, I’m excited to even hear all of the stories, much less be entrusted to bring them to the page, and, as we insist down here below the Mason-Dixon line, tell them true.
Jamie and I got back in touch on Facebook, like so many of us do. I noticed that he was posting old photos, high school-old, then really old, like 19th century, and we reached out, had a conversation Thursday afternoon, another one Thursday night. For the life of me, I don’t remember getting on his boat up at Lake Springs one afternoon in 1994, but I was always getting on someone’s boat back then. I’m lucky I’m not on the bottom of that lake.
Then we talked again Friday and discovered that we were in first grade together, had the exact same memories of the elementary school talent show and the people dressed up in pillowcases dancing to “Short People.”
My husband and I drove to Atlanta to see Jamie today, and got to see two more friends from my youth on the way. We’re already home, and those were twelve of the best hours I’ve spent in a long time.
About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me. Some of my fiction might have provoked divorce proceedings in another state.😈
MA English literature, College of Charleston
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Comments (2)
The way you admit you don’t remember getting on Jamie’s boat in ’94 but still remember the feeling of always getting on someone’s boat made me smile in that slightly wistful way — like memory is more about texture than facts. I loved the idea of you acting as a translator between oral and literary southern traditions, especially with the insistence to “tell them true,” because it feels like such a sacred kind of trust. Did this trip change how you’re thinking about your own memories too, or mostly make you grateful they’re still out there waiting to be told?
Oh wow, how exciting! My home is in Atlanta so hopefully when I’m back and you make another trip there we could meet in person.