Tale of Johnny Ray

Jacob Reed would look back at his final four years in Atlanta with fondness. Having quit school in the seventh grade, Jake never had any structure or guidance in his life.
His cousin Ron set a fine example, but being the same age, he was in no position to be a mentor.
Jake just basically ran wild until he committed the famous Piggly Wiggly store robbery.
Under the quiet tutelage of Roberto Ruiz, Jake became somewhat literate, and somewhat athletic as well.
Once he was confident in Jake's new found maturity, Roberto began administering weekly boxing lessons.
Dull and laborious at first, Jake spent countless hours with the punching bag, not so much as for strength training as to teach the value of repetition.
Don't think. React became a mantra. "Intelligence is over rated" Roberto was fond of saying.
The worlds best athletes aren't necessarily the worlds smartest people. The greatest quarterbacks don't think, once the play begins, they react to the situation.
When a batter sees the ball he wants, he swings. There is strategy, but strategy comes from planning and repetition.
You plan your strategy in the gym and you react in the ring.
Jake would never be more than a fair boxer, but he was an excellent student. He worked hard and he never quit trying.
The boost in his self confidence alone was worth the effort. He developed a mental toughness he never had, along with a sense of self worth.

Roberto also lectured Jake on the concept of being "institutionalized" and pointed out examples of fellow inmates who suffered from it.
Jake was urged to look ahead, always. Never look back on this place as a source of refuge.

When his release day finally arrived, Jake had to choke back tears as he left his cell for the last time.
Roberto was genuinely happy for his friend, reminding him jokingly that in a mere five years he was eligible for his first parole hearing.
A cakewalk compared to the prospect of a lifetime here. He also reminded Jake to look up AA in the phonebook, wherever he ended up.

 

8 )Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all
9 )Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others

From the 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous


Jake did three things for the next year or so.
He stayed out of trouble, he stayed employed and he stayed sober.
No small feat, but he was anything but fulfilled.
After a couple of menial jobs around Atlanta, he drifted out to the town of Monroe GA, where he found employment in a poultry processing plant.
Day after day, Jake would hang the chickens upside down by their feet, where they would ride the conveyor to the beheading saw that awaited them.
He preferred this job to the task of emptying the buckets where the little chicken heads landed. He found the eyes oddly disturbing.
Jake performed his duties well. He was never late and he never complained.
But he also realized that no matter how long he stayed here, he most likely would never be promoted beyond his status of a basic laborer.
No matter how hard and how long worked here, it seemed impossible for anyone other than a lifetime resident of this town to get promoted.
And that was only the basic requirement. It helped greatly to be a blood relative of someone in management.
The more Jake contemplated his future, or lack of it, the more despondent he became.
More and more he thought about taking a drink to ease the tedium. Just a nice shot or two. Who would know?
He hadn't been going to meetings. Monroe wasn't like Atlanta. It was small, like Tifton where he grew up. Maybe smaller.
He hadn't forgotten how vicious small town gossip could be. Especially when directed toward an outsider.
He knew that despite the secrecy of AA, people around here knew who went to those weekly meetings in the church basement.
Jake was trying his best to fit in. To be an average citizen. Bad enough to be an ex con. He didn't want to be thought of as a drunk too.
What would they tell me to do in a meeting? Call my sponsor, that's what. Trouble was, he still thought of Roberto as his sponsor.
And Roberto wasn't here.
That's no excuse, and you know it a voice in his head told him and he knew the voice was right.
He thought about how much he missed Roberto. He remembered shaking hands as they said goodbye.
He then remembered Roberto handing him a slip of paper that day, which he folded up and put in his almost empty wallet.
Worn and faded as it was, the address to the Atanta Penitentiary.
Jake sat down that night and wrote his first letter to Roberto, embarrassed that he hadn't written his friend earlier, waiting until he needed help.
If Roberto was disappointed or angry, it wasn't evident in his reply. He was upbeat and his serious demeanor came through in his writing.
After brief pleasantries, he simply told Jake to to work the steps.
"You were on step 8 when you left here" he wrote."Step 8 is easy. Step 9 requires you to act. You are trying to fill a hole my friend. Now pick up the shovel"
Step 9 Jake thought. Only one way to complete step 9 and that involved the very thing he had been avoiding.
Returning home. He imagined still being a laughingstock for the great Piggly Wiggly robbery. He thought of the shame of having to face those people.
Then he thought of his future at the chicken plant. His future of possibly getting drunk and doing something monumentally stupid again.
A future at the Atlanta Penitentiary and facing Roberto. That shame would be a thousand times worse than anything he would feel from the people in his hometown.
He had to do it. Don't think. Act.
And act he did. The following morning Jake informed his supervisor he hated to leave on short notice, but had to get home immediately, hinting at an emergency, which Jake didn't feel was a total lie.
His boss liked Jake well enough and told him it would be no problem. He was even able to get his final pay, explaining that he had no forwarding address.
So with nothing but a battered suitcase and the clothes on his back, after nearly a dozen years, Jake begins his trip home.

 

I first met my second cousin Jake in the summer of 1961. I was twelve years old and it was my first of many summers working at Willie Hick's farm.
I worked there every summer until I graduated from high school and paid cash for my first car with the money I had earned.
I was already at work when Jake arrived at the bus station, a.k.a. Bubba's Truck Stop & Diner.

After deliberating the entire trip on who he should visit first, the decision suddenly seemed easy enough when he stepped off the bus and saw the sign for Ron's Diesel & Tire Repair.
Ron was the one he dreaded facing the most. He was family, after all, and the one he felt he disappointed the most.
Don't think. Act. Jake grabbed his suitcase from the storage section of the bus and walked across the parking lot with as much dignity as he could muster.
If Ron was surprised when Jake walked into his shop he didn't let it show.
"How ya been Jake?" Ron asked as he extended his hand.
"Good, Ron. How about you?" Jake answered, trying to hide his nervousness.
"Had anything to eat today?" Ron asked just as casually as if they saw each other every day, even though it had been twelve years.
"Just a pack of soda crackers when we stopped in Macon is all"
"Well that ain't no good. Come on and let's get us some lunch"
With that they walked back across the parking lot to the diner. Unlike Ron, who was able to conceal his surprise, more to put Jake at ease than anything else, Bubba did anything but.
His mouth dropped open at the dual shock of Ron Reed stepping foot in his diner for the first time since Bubba's ill fated business proposal, and the appearance of the infamous Piggly Wiggly bandit.
"Afternoon Bubba" Ron announced as if he ate lunch there every day. "Does it matter where we sit?"
While Bubba was stammering and attempting to gather his wits, Cat stepped forward, and with a wink said "Yall have a seat just wherever you please. One of them booths would be the most comfortable.
What can I get yall to drink?"
Ron and Jake were obviously the center of attention, from the staff and customers alike. The wheels in the rumor mill were already turning.
Ron did his best to put Jake at ease by steering the conversation toward nuetral topics like the bus ride home and his job at the poultry plant, allowing Jake to approach the more delicate matters at his own pace.
After all this time, there was certainly no rush, and Ron preferred to have serious conversation elsewhere, away from the nosy eyes and ears of the diner.
After a meal of fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy(which Ron found tolerable, but Jake seemed to enjoy immensely) the two cousins strolled back to the shop.
Ron recognized that Jake had something to say and was building up his nerve, so he decided to help him out, take off some pressure, so to speak.
"You have any plans for the rest of the day, Jake?" he asked innocently.
Taken off guard somewhat, all Jake could say was "Uh, no, I don't reckon I do"
"Well why don't you hang out here at the shop with me. You might be able to give me a hand around here. Then you can come on out to the house with me when we lock up.
Have a good home cooked meal with us. I'd like for you to meet our son Johnny Ray. We can put you in the spare bedroom tonight"
"Uh, well, I hate to be a bother. Short notice and all"
"No bother at all Jake. If I didn't mean that, I wouldn't have asked you. After all, we're family"
Yes we are thought Jake. The only family I have.

 

Thank-you. So happy you are enjoying it.
Believe me, if didn't have to work full time I would be writing a lot more.
Maybe one day I can.
Hope to get some more down this weekend.

 

As he often did, Daddy came out to Willie Hicks' farm to pick me up after he closed up his shop and would drop me off in the morning on his way in.
The dust formed a brown hazy cloud against the late afternoon sun as Daddy made his way down the quarter mile long driveway to the Hicks homestead.
With the sun as a backdrop, it wasn't until he was a few yards away that I realized Daddy had a passenger in his old Chevy pickup truck.
Daddy killed the motor as both men exited the vehicle. A curious Willy Hicks got up from his rocking chair on the front porch and ambled over.
"Son, I want you to meet your cousin Jacob Reed. Jake, this is my boy Johnny Ray. And I reckon you and Mr. Hicks remember one another" Daddy announced.
"Been awhile Jake. Welcome home son" Willie said as he stepped forward and shook hands with Jake.
As I shook hands with Jake I was immediately struck by the family similarity. He could have been Daddy's brother.
At an even six feet they were identical in height and shared the same sandy hair color.
Although the same age, the decade in prison had left their mark on Jake. It was evident in the deep lines etched into his face, radiating from the corners of his eyes.
The other noticeable difference was the almost weightlifter physique of Jake. No doubt the result of years of working out.
I wondered about the multitude of scars on his hands, which I later found out were the result of handling hundreds of chickens every day for the last ten months.

"Mr. Hicks, I know Ron is needing to get home to his wife, so I won't take up none of yall's time. But I was wonderin if you could make time to talk with me tomorrow.
If Ron will allow me to ride out here in the morning with Johnny, I could come out here then. If that's alright with you, that is" Jake asked Willie Hicks.
"Why I'd be glad to Jake. I'll let the Missus know to set an extra plate at the breakfast table" Willie answered.
" Thank you sir. Don't want to be no bother, but I'd be honored to eat with yall"
"Alright then, I'll see ya then"

The aroma of fried catfish was overwhelming as we walked up the frontsteps to the house. Hearing our approach, Momma met us on the front porch.
Having already heard of Jake's arrival in town, she didn't bother to act surprised. Wasn't in her nature to be pretentious anyway.
"Welcome home, Jake" she said warmly. "You're looking good. Looks like you been taking care of yourself. I hope you brought your appetite"
"Appreciate the kind words maam. Yall have been too nice to me already. Sure hope I can make it up to yall"
"Oh just don't you worry about it. Johnny, you go get all that farm dust cleaned off of you before you even think about getting near my dinner table.
And Ron, you and Jake pull up a chair out on the porch and I'll bring yall some cold lemonade. Dinner's going to be just a liittle bit longer.
Just finishing up the hush puppies"

With the two of them alone at last, Jake figured this was as good a time as any to try to make his amends with Ron. Don't think. Act.
And so he did. Just blurted it out.
"Ron, I'm sorry. Sorry as I can be. You're the only family I got and I brought shame on us. I was just plain drunk and stupid. Ain't no nice way to put it.
I can't never make it up to Momma and Daddy. They died knowin I wasn't worth nothin.
You was the son they deserved, not me. I can never come close to repaying you for lookin out for them the way you did.
I came back here to try to make up to the folks I done wrong. Ain't lookin for no sympathy or no handout.
And if you don't want me in your life, I can understand that.
And for what it's worth Ron, I don't drink no more. Not a drop. Even read the Bible some.
All I want to do is work hard and do right by folks. That's all I want"

Although I never told anyone, I was just inside the screen door and heard every word spoken between the two men.
As young as I was, I knew something meaningful was taking place. Knowing Daddy as I did, I could tell by his demeanor that he was accepting Jake's apologies and declarations without judgement or reservation.
Daddy spoke little, allowing Jake to unburden himself, unknowingly playing the role of therapist.
Daddy did let him know in no uncertain terms that there was nothing to forgive. That was then and this was now.
They were family and he would always be welcome in his home.
When I was certain, the serious talk was over, I walked out onto the porch as if I was none the wiser.
"Pull up a seat son. Get you a glass of that lemonade your Momma made us. You gotta get Jake to tell you about them dang chickens.
He had me rolling in the floor today thinkin about hangin them birds upside down by their feet" Daddy said.
"You wouldn't think it was so dang funny if they was peckin you to death all day" Jake said as he held up his scarred hands. But he was laughing as he did so.
It seemed to be the laugh of somebody who was feeling at ease for the first time in a very long time.

 

Despite his early effort at restraint, Jake soon lost all pretense of control in the consumption of his meal. He began attacking the food with a vengeance.
It had been quite some time since he had enjoyed such fare. An amount of time nearly equivalent to the length of my life at that point, which was difficult for me to fathom.
While never wanting for anything, we were far from well to do, but I had always taken our meals for granted.
It would be sometime later, in the jungles of southeast Asia, before I learned to not take a meal, delicious or not, for granted.
The catfish was freshly caught yesterday. An unexpected rainstorm cut our workday short and left me without a ride home until Daddy got off work.
So my co-worker Jed and I went down to Mr. Willies's pond with a couple of old cane poles he kept in the barn and spent about four hours on the bank in the drizzling rain.
I walked away with eleven pan size channel cat. Had I known we were having a guest, I would not have returned the other three to the pond, one of which was quite large.
We had plenty though, when you added in Momma's hushpuppies, fried up with onion and bell pepper.
Grits with melted cheddar cheese was a regional standby. Usually considered a breakfast food, even by most southerners, cheese grits just seem to go with fried catfish.
Tonight's vegetable was stewed tomatoes and okra, both from the garden.
Dinner conversation was light. I'm sure Daddy told Momma of his conversation with Jake later on, in private, but it was never brought up again.
And though he never mentioned it, I suspect Daddy knew of my eavesdropping.
Jake amused us by recounting how he managed to get fired from his first job after his release.
While working at a powdered milk factory on Whitehall Street in Atlanta, he was secretly raising a family of kittens in a storeroom that had been abandoned nearby.
His boss was furious, citing health code violations, despite Jake's argument that the cats would be a good solution for the rat problem in the plant.
This infuriated the boss even more, who insisted there were no rats here.
Jake, in a moment of indisrection, laughed out loud, and said a fella would have to be blind not to see all the dang rats in this place.
That was the final straw and with that show of disrespect, he was out the door.
He then went on to talk about Roberto Ruiz, the Peurto Rican boxing champion.
He didn't talk about the day Roberto killed a man, not in Momma's presence anyway, but focused on the man's wisdom, his work in AA and his devotion to God.
Momma was genuinely touched by this and said so.
"Jake, I'm so happy the Lord put you in the cell with that man. He truly does work in mysterious ways. I'm glad you made it home. We all are" Momma told him.

As was our tradition, weather permitting, we would retire to the back porch(screened in as a mosquito defense) and sip on some sweet tea and maybe have some watermelon or canteloupe for dessert. Again, from the garden.
Jake dicussed his plans for the next few days. It been agreed on that he would ride with me in the morning out to Willie Hicks place.
Jake wanted to apologize for stealing Willie's pickup truck that saturday morning for use as a getaway vehicle.
Truth be told, Willie never was the least bit upset about it. Heck, he knew Jake was drunk. He also knew there wasn't enough gas in the old truck to get past the city limits.
Wasn't nothing but a minor inconvenience, him and his son walking up the street to the Piggly Wiggly to retrieve it. But he would indulge Jake's apology and accept it graciously.
Jake also wanted to visit Josh Grady, the store manager, along with the cashiers, and of course the Sheriff.
Josh was since retired after suffering a stroke three years earlier, but was still coherent and would surely enjoy a visitor.
Like Willie Hicks, he harbored no grudge against Jake, other than not being overly pleased at having a pistol pointed at him that Saturday morning.