Ken's Concert
Six months ago, I wrote a story about the day my grandfather told me Ed Cates was alive. So far, three reporters have asked me about it. I suspect the success of Tupelo Kings has created an interest in Mississippi weirdness.
Were it not all entirely true, I would swear the Ed Cates story was a finely crafted Southern Gothic, on the level of any story Faulkner or Welty wrote. I suspect the success of Tupelo Kings has spawned an interest in all things Mississippi Weird. This qualifies. I don't really have much to add beyond what was in my story. Anything I know about the Cates family is off limits as far as I'm concerned.
I didn't really know how this writer thing would turn out when I started. Death threats have become part of my life again. I'm curiously used to that. It's been going on since my voice dropped in fifth grade. I just tell stories, man. People sometimes hold their narratives closer than their families. There's never enough to go around in Mississippi. People trade their memes and narratives like gold.
I try not to say I like something I wrote. Being pleased is the first step toward resting on your laurels. I wish there were a better home for the story I wrote Monday. The magazines that used to publish that kind of story are struggling for survival. They're still accepting stories, but you kind of need to have a Pulitzer. One of those isn't in my future. I think about how Miss Eudora sent "Where is that Voice Coming From" to New York, and it was in the magazine the next week. I think if she heard me complaining, she'd tell me to be more grateful. She told a lot of young writers they were being lazy.
I don't think most writers are lazy. I think they're afraid of what's in their mind not matching what they put on the paper. That's pretty hard to overcome. A lot of days, my projects are lost in forests where I can't see the trees.
When I was little, my mother took me to see Kathryn Tucker Windham to talk about her book "13 Mississippi Ghosts." I said how excited I was to meet an actual writer. Mother said, "You sit behind Miss Eudora every Sunday." It took a few years for me to put the two together.
Besides Mrs Windham, my influences in Mississippi were Katherine Speed Ettl, Eudora Welty, Lance Goss, and Ken Roberts. They celebrated Ken's life and birthday with a special concert at Galloway. It's available on YouTube. When I was a child, Ken and I had an agreement. I wouldn't sing, and he wouldn't play football. It worked out pretty well.
One of the speakers at Ken's Concert was Provence Commander Doug Stone's daughter. Doug's been gone a while now. We used to join forces and agree not to pay attention at KA functions. Doug and I both believed that undergraduates should do nearly all the work in running KA and its chapters. I still believe that.
I watch a lot of things remotely now. A stuttering child finds ways to become invisible. I've been invisible but omnipresent at Gallaway most of my life now.
My father preferred going to early church, and he preferred to sit in the choir loft. Since there was no choir at the morning service, the joke was that only Clay Lee, the Pastor, and Mary Taylor Sigman, the organist, ever knew that the Campbell boys went to church. I'm pretty sure God knew we were there, but he's been curiously quiet about it.
The Campbell daughter was very visible at everything Galloway put on, and sang in everything Ken produced, although I’m pretty sure she sings only slightly better than I. At the old Galloway Family Life Center Stage, she was in “The Mikado,” “The Boyfriend,” and “Carnival.”
There are aspects of Ken’s life where I’m unsure if I have permission to discuss them. Let’s just say that he’s one of my inspirations when it comes to keeping an open mind and an open heart on certain subjects. The United Methodist Church has now formally embraced his position on these subjects. They better.
A really young guy holds Ken’s job now. He has so much energy and knowledge. We’re lucky to have such talent.
Anna McDonald sang for Ken at his concert. She’s been singing for Ken for a long time. Anna sang for a lot of people in my family at their final Christian rite. She also sang in the balcony of the chapel at early service a few times, so she can attest that the Campbell family was actually in church.
Ken started the search for a new organ at Galloway. You’d be shocked if I told you how much it cost. I think it’s worth it.
I’m really grateful for the people who cleared a path for me. I don’t think they knew they were. I didn’t either. Of them, Ken’s the last one standing. I think that’s appropriate. I’m grateful for every day I’ve known him.
People say I have trouble getting to the point in my stories. A lot of times, that is the point. A good story tries to compress the whole universe into about a thousand words. In my universe, this is a story about Ken.
