Ernest Leonard Mitchell, everyone calls him Leo, was born, raised and probably ‘il die at route 2, Liberty, Missippi. Loe’s never been far from the farm, which he was born on and inherited from his Mama and divided up with his 2 brothers, unless you count the times he’s gone to Jackson for the State Fair or New Orleans once when he was 20 for the Marti Grass – once was ‘nough for that. He really didn’t need anything he couldn’t get at the Wal-Mart up to McComb. His whole world came in through his TV and he’s so excited taday ‘cause at the coffee meeting he can tell all the guys about his new satellite.
The coffee meetin’ takes place at 10 ever mornin’, ‘cept Sunday, over at the McDonald’s on Edgewood, right off the interstate in McComb. Theys several o tha guys that air there ever morning and the ones that still have crops come in between plowing and harvestin.
Leo could hardly sleep last night for thinkin’ about his big news. These meetings have become the high-lite of his existence since he retired from Weyerhaueser and Ruth passed on last year. He don’t have the energy to keep many cows now and he lost most of his tree crop to Katrina 3 years back. The kids have all moved off, 'cept that baby girl who is always stirring up some kind of drama – keeping his blood pressure up near stroke level.
He jus’ loves his new TV, big with rall good color and over a hunered channels. How ‘xactly can anyone possibly watch that many channels, he mused – but he was shore gonna given ’em all a good try ‘fore he goes home to Jesus and Ruth.
Naturally, Leo was the first to arrive today, but after getting his coffee he staked out the usual table and sat back tryin’ to look relaxed.
One by one they trickled in; Ralph, who ain’t never done much o nothing was next. “He’s triflin, most folks say; Leo says, “he jus’ aint rite”. He fancies hisself an evangelist so he ain’t all bad, jus a bit lazy…which is hard for Leo to tolerate. Ralph was his mama’s only son, born late in life and was runt by her and his two older sisters. His dad was a traveling preacher, so Ralph just took on the title, but never made it a fulltime job. Lewis, who lost a lung to cancer last year comes, but don’t really have the breath fer much talkin’, he jus’ listens and smiles mostly. Ernest Wayne, everone calls him Bubba, is the loud and funny one. Always with a good joke and monopolies the conversation; he’ll get to cuttin’ up and the manager, who grew up with Leo’s baby girl, will come over to quiet the group down. Within a half-hour a group of 8 was sittin’ around that end of the restaurant, tellin’ lies and markin’ time. Leo waited ‘til the crowd settled down to start is news, but he didn’t want to wait too long ‘cause he wanted ever one to have time to hear afore the lunch crowd showed up.
After Bubba’s 4th joke, Leo broke in – he thought hes gonna pop a lung having to wait so long, but he knew it would be worth it jus’ ta see the looks on they faces… “Well”, he says, clearing his throat, “did I tell you ‘bout the TV the boys give me fur my birthday?” O’course he had about 3 times, so he didn’t get much reaction ‘til he said he’d decided ta get that new DirecTV he had heard tell about in Sunday school class last month. Martha Frisby couldn’t quit talking about it and how all her stories came in clear and she even got ‘em later on another channel if she had a doctors appointment and had to miss them the first time. He had the floor and the full attention of the gathering.
Leo, with all the pomp he could produce for a humble man, began to describe the installation of his very own satellite. He described the boy climbing on his roof, picking out jus’ the rite spot to attach it, running the lines through the attic, hooking up the fancy computer box to his new TV, programming it to connect to his TV to bring in all them channels – did he say they’s over a hunered channels? Sure he did, but loved sayin’ hit and seeing they eyes get big with tha words. Then he says the boy had to go back up on the roof to reposition the satellite 2 or 3 times, “Ya know why?” he asked with a long enough silence to make shore ever ones eyes was locked on ta him, “Cause thay’s a whole lot a sky out there an ya gotta point that thaing jus’ rite.”
