Recently, my wife and I drove to Birmingham for lunch with my sisters and brother and their spouses. Arriving a little early, we took a minor detour so I could show Bertha where I had lived in college. The neighborhood is going downhill fast, and in fact, my college announced earlier this year they will cease to operate after graduation in a few days.
The boarding house where I lived for perhaps six months 1959-60, in the 1100 block of Graymont Avenue West, lies empty now, but I took a snapshot of the front porch.
I have a story about that front porch.
Three blocks down the street we shot a picture of the small apartment house where I lived the next three years. The neighborhood is in trouble now and you would not want to be stranded out here at night. But back in the day, it was a safe place and I could walk up the hill to college and a mile to my girl-friend’s house without a thought about safety. I logged a lot of miles walking back and forth.
Back to the front porch. Here’s what happened.
One Wednesday night I was sitting on the front stoop waiting for my ride to church. Bill Dempsey was my Sunday School teacher and his wife Marguerite worked in the church office. Great folks, and forever friends.
The six men who roomed with Mrs. Pope had had dinner and two or three were lounging on the front porch. Joel Davis sat on the swing reading the newspaper. Following his recent discharge from the Navy, Joel had moved to Birmingham for a job with Roadway Express. One of our residents had invited Joel to room with us.
From the swing, suddenly Joel looked up from his newspaper. He said, “I just realized something. It’s Wednesday night . If I were back home in LaGrange, I’d be in prayer meeting!”
I said, “Come go with me. I’m waiting on my ride right now.”
He did.