Let Me Tell You. Story...a gathering of old men.

A Gathering Of Old Men...
Earnest Gaines

How It All Goes Down...Part One

It's just another quiet day near Marshall Plantation. Old Aunt Glo is feeding her little nieces and nephews a healthy little meal. Then Candy Marshall shows up, and things get a whole less quiet.

She tells Glo's nephew George—whom everybody calls "Snookum"—to get a hold of Lou Dimes—a big city reporter and Candy's main squeeze—and Miss Merle, the owner of what remains of another plantation. Along the way to Miss Merle's place, Snookum's also supposed to tell Rufe and pretty much every other African American male in the place to get over to Mathu's quick. Beau Boutan's corpse is getting ripe in the grass outside Mathu's house—and everybody knows Fix's (Beau's dad) unhealthy obsession with revenge, destruction, and murder.

A few hours later, literally every male member of the Black community around Marshall has shown up at Mathu's house, along with a few women and children, including Candy herself. Oh, and all the men are carrying shotguns with at least one empty shotgun shell—the same type of shotgun and caliber of shell that killed Beau. Not long after the Gun Club for Men starts hanging out around Mathu's front porch, Lou Dimes shows up—with Sherriff Mapes, and you had better believe that Mapes is not thrilled by what he sees. He's also more than slightly afraid of what might happen if Fix Boutan jets down to Marshall with some of his redneck pals and sees a group of elderly, shotgun-toting Black men in the wake of his son's killing.

Mapes tries to get to the bottom of all of it and get it all over with before Fix has a chance to do the kind of awful hideousness that he does best, but the old tried-and-true scare tactics that Mapes has used in the past aren't flying that day. Everybody there is taking credit for sending Beau on a one-way trip to that Honky-Tonk bar in the sky.

                                                                      Mathu's house

Entry Note To Self...faith in humanity

Steinbeck writes on January 1, 1941:

Speaking of the happy new year, I wonder if any year ever had less chance of being happy. It’s as though the whole race were indulging in a kind of species introversion — as though we looked inward on our neuroses. And the thing we see isn’t very pretty… So we go into this happy new year, knowing that our species has learned nothing, can, as a race, learn nothing — that the experience of ten thousand years has made no impression on the instincts of the million years that preceded.

Not that I have lost any hope. All the goodness and the heroisms will rise up again, then be cut down again and rise up. It isn’t that the evil thing wins — it never will — but that it doesn’t die. I don’t know why we should expect it to. It seems fairly obvious that two sides of a mirror are required before one has a mirror, that two forces are necessary in man before he is man. I asked [the influential microbiologist] Paul de Kruif once if he would like to cure all disease and he said yes. Then I suggested that the humanity he loved and wanted to cure was a product of all his own filth and disease and meanness, his hunger and cruelty. Cure those and you would have not man but an entirely new species you wouldn’t recognize and probably wouldn’t like.

Entry Note To Self:

So when we witness evil, punctuate the line of our moral and humanitarian progress, as we periodically do, and may we remember Steinback’s sobering perspective and lucid faith in the human spirit.