Note: The photo above is street art that I found in Columbia, South Carolina.

Today’s post is different. I have been sitting with this essay for months. I wasn’t ready for it to be public. Now, in honor of Black History Month, I am publishing it. Travel is as much about learning as it is about fun. This essay recalls one of the most jarring learning experiences that I’ve ever had while traveling. The piece is long, but please hang in there with me. Hopefully, you will think it is worth it.

What’s the worst thing you’ve ever had to admit about your hometown?  Think about it.  As we grow up, one of the responsibilities we have is to take our parents down off the pedestals that we keep them on during childhood and to see them for who they really are.  They are just human beings.  They aren’t perfect.  Their flaws don’t disappear when the stork arrives. 

Hometowns are just like that.  They nurture us.  They help shape our speech patterns, likes, dislikes and more. However, no town is perfect.  Towns are made up of people, and therefore, they have flaws.

So, what’s the most difficult thing you’ve ever had to admit about your hometown? It’s tough to be honest with ourselves about the places we love, isn’t it? Let’s set that aside a moment.  We’ll come back to it.

Claims to Fame

On my first visit to Monroeville, Alabama (population 6200), I learned some intriguing facts that might help me win at Trivial Pursuit someday. For example, this small town has connections to Truman Capote.  Before he wrote famous works like Breakfast at Tiffany’s and In Cold Blood, Capote spent much of his childhood with relatives of his mother in Monroeville. His parents were fairly neglectful and were happy to have relatives care for him while they went about their lives. 

Sadly, the home he spent time in burned down many years ago, but residents have erected a historical marker on that spot.  The marker reminds visitors that he continued to visit relatives in Monroeville throughout his life.  While living with the Faulk family for five years (ages 3-8), he became good friends with Harper Lee.   Yes, that Harper Lee.

One of America’s most famous authors lived and died in Monroeville.  In this place, Harper Lee is known as Nelle (a family name).  Here bits of childhood and life seeped into her adult writing. The now iconic To Kill a Mockingbird has obvious influences from her environment.  Her father was a lawyer and there are elements of him in Scout’s father.  While the home she grew up in is gone now, there is a mural downtown that shows a scene from the book.  Everywhere a visitor looks in Monroeville there are references to mockingbirds.  There is the Mockingbird Inn.  There is Mockingbird Lane.  Then, there is that courthouse.

The Old Monroe County Courthouse was her model for the courthouse in the novel.  Gregory Peck spent time here while preparing for his movie role as Atticus Finch.  The town stages a theater production of To Kill a Mockingbird on the nearby lawn every spring.

These are the exciting tidbits to learn about any small town.  However, there is more to this story.

Uncomfortable Truths

We were in town for my husband’s job.  One day, two of my husband’s co-workers, who live in Monroeville, asked him if he knew about “the other stuff.”  In response to my husband’s confused look, they suggested that he watch the 2019 movie “Just Mercy.”  This movie is based on a memoir by attorney Bryan Stevenson and tells the story of a black Monroeville man named Walter McMillian who was wrongly convicted in 1989 of the 1986 murder of a white woman.  Stevenson was the young attorney who succeeded in freeing McMillian. 

In fact, McMillian was shockingly railroaded for a crime he did not commit in a way that many Americans think hasn’t existed in decades. It is terrifying to think that under the idyllic portraits of America’s small towns (and big cities) can often lie biases that we believe we have shed but have not.  For generations, when a crime was committed against a white female, the most convenient suspect was a black male.  Many people believe this line of thought died out decades ago, but it was still going strong in Monroeville, Alabama as recently as 1989.

My husband’s colleagues proceeded to explain that during the days of the slave trade, Monroeville’s slave market was held on Thursdays.  To get a good place at the auction, so they could bid on the best “merchandise,” business owners closed up shop by noon.  The entire town (courthouse included) closed at noon. Today, in the 21st Century, the courthouse still closes at noon every Thursday. 

To say that I was aghast when my husband shared this newfound information with me is, of course, an understatement.  However, we didn’t want to judge a community that we’d only known for 48 hours based on hearsay or gossip.  He was determined to ask someone else to be sure.

We approached the middle-aged woman at the hotel front desk.  He said that he’d heard that all the businesses and the courthouse have a tradition going back to the slave trading days of shutting down at noon on Thursdays and asked if it was true.

She looked my husband squarely in the face.  I should say, the woman looked at my husband squarely in his black face, and said, “Yes, sir.  That’s true.  It’s not the businesses, but the courthouse does still work half a day on Thursdays.”

There was a deep collective breath between the three of us.  A moment of silence. 

“OK. I appreciate your honesty,” he said, looking squarely back into her eyes.

“It’s just always been that way.  I remember my mom talking about it.  I remember my grandmother talking about it,” she said.

“It’s just always been that way” is a dangerous phrase to be sure.

She made no excuses.  She gave no apologies or explanations.  There was no shame.  Personally, I think that’s good.  Shame doesn’t encourage honesty. We need honesty about these things now more than ever.  Our nation is in the middle of a racial reckoning that has been a long time in coming, but national reckonings come from personal reckonings. So, what is the worst thing you’ve ever had to admit about the hometown that you love? Do you have the courage to look at your community and yourself without shame and with complete honesty?

My Hometown Faces the Mirror

I’ve lived in Gainesville, Florida for 30 years.  It is home and there is much about it that I love.  Recently, I learned that in 1956 the Florida Legislature formed the Florida Legislative Investigation Committee (commonly referred to as the Johns Committee).  Under the leadership of Charley Johns, their mission was to root out homosexuals in the State’s government offices.  In particular, homosexuals employed at Florida Universities were considered a threat to national security and to young people.  Without due process, many homosexuals were interrogated, fired or forced to resign from the University of Florida in Gainesville. It has been said that this occurred with the support of the University President at the time, J. Wayne Reitz (for whom major campus buildings are now named). My beloved hometown has darkness in its history too, but I like to believe that current residents are facing their own truth and striving to be better.

During our 48 hours in Monroeville, we found the people to be exceedingly pleasant, warm and welcoming.  While there seems to be no open malice in Monroeville to accompany the Thursday tradition, there also appears to be little education or effort to have history evolve into something more positive.  Another hotel employee who had lived in town for only two years (who happened to be black) seemed shocked at our conversation.  Clearly, she was unaware, and we wondered how many school children growing up there aren’t told where the Thursday half-day tradition comes from.

My husband and I talked about how powerful it could be for the church bell to ring a 13th time at noon every Thursday in memory of those enslaved people who suffered and died there.  That was just an outsider’s idea, though.  If someone is going to take Monroeville down off its pedestal and hold it up to the light to examine its pluses and minuses, that must be done by the residents, not visitors.  The path to redemption starts from within.

And so it goes with every community and person in America.  Each city and town must examine itself and, where possible, turn negatives into positive teaching moments.  More importantly, every individual must examine their own virtues and flaws and change those that need changing.