Alabama does NOT suck. Here is why...

After what had to be one of the lowest days of my life, I had a very good one, and came to the realization that Alabama does not suck. Well, at least where I am right now. Ironically, I am walking to promote awareness of hunger in the world, and last night I turned down a free pizza. Here is what happened:
My day started in Piedmont, where I had a nice breakfast, did my laundry, and walked around town a bit. A very quaint, To Kill A Mockingbird’s fictitious Macomb, Alabama kind of atmosphere. Telling: When I did my laundry, there were 6 people there doing laundry in the time I was there---all men. I asked one what happened that all the men were doing the laundry. He dryly drawled, “Cuz all the whores are in church.” He didn’t look like he had seen the inside of a church himself for a long time. The inside of a whore I could believe…
Clothes clean, I headed out. Several miles down the road I came to a small store/service station called Doug’s Grocery. A woman and two older gentlemen were sitting outside smoking and shooting the breeze, (or shootin’ the shit, depending on your education.) The woman jumped up, greeting me like I was along lost cousin, and ushered me inside. I bought a grilled chicken sandwich and a soda, and the woman, Alice, charged me three dollars. When I told her that I was walking across the country for charity, she immediately gave me back two of the three dollars, and told me to take another sandwich for later. I told her that was not necessary, but she insisted, so I gratefully accepted her generosity. Outside I talked to the two old men who were selling pocket knives that were laid out nicely on the table in front of them. I chateed a bit about my days at Schrade Cutlerym in Ellenville, NY, and one of the men related that he had just sold an LB-7, a very popular and well made best seller for that now defunct company.
Down the road a few more miles, I stopped at another station, where the owner, Donnie Hamilton, also offered me free snacks and advice for the road. While I was there a young man in a pickup truck pulled up and bought gas. I said “How you doing, young fella?” and he answered “Very well, thank you sir.” And left. A little later I left there and as I headed down the road I noticed a pickup truck backed into a dirt area idling. I figured someone wanted to have a little fun with the guy walking, and prepared for the worst. The passenger door opened and a young boy stepped out with a takeout cpontainer in his hand. “You want fish?” he asked. I saw that the driver was the young man who had bought gas a little earlier. I introduced myself and and they did as well. Landon Pruett was the older young man and his younger brother, whose name I have forgotten, sadly. They had just returned from a church fish fry and had brought me some fish (it was a LOT) and fries and cole slaw. Terribly kind of them and I graciously thanked them. We parted ways and I continued on my way, passing the Pruett house a little later as Landon was mowing the lawn with the gas he had bought earlier. We exchanged waves and that was that.
The miles seemed endless, but eventually I found a field adjacent to a Piggly Wiggly plaza to set up camp. I walked to the “Pig” as they call it colloquially and purchased some juice, peanut butter and flatbreads, and as I was returning to my cap passed a pizza place called Julio’s Pizza. Two teens were sitting on a bench outside smoking and they called out to me.
Allow me to introduce you to JT and Drake. Sixteen year old JT works for the pizza place, and his buddy Drake just hangs around there, probably too young to work, but not, apparently to smoke. I noticed that next door to the pizza shop was a place called LOL, a prank and gag gift shop, featuring a lamp that was featured in the classic movie, A Christmas Story. I suggested that the pizza shop should work with the gag shop and make pizzas with plastic worms on them. They laughed and invited me to sit with them for a minute. They offered me a smoke, which I declined and gave them a little chastisement for their own smoking. JT looked down and sheepishly said that he had been trying to quit since he was 14. Ah, the young…
I asked them what they did for fun around Hoke’s Bluff, Alabama. JT told me he liked to sake, meaning skateboarding. Drake indicated that he liked to practice parkour, the French athletic activity that involves running up trees, walls, and leaping from place to place like Spiderman on speed. I had sen videos and they were impressive. When asked to demonstrate, he declined, though.
I told them that when they first called out to me I thought that they were rednecks looking to mess with me, but that I wasn’t sure what being a redneck really meant. JT thought for a moment and said, “Well, I guess I’m a redneck.” He didn’t elaborate, but I got the sense that in his 16 year old mind, being a redneck meant hanging out with his buddy, smoking, talking about skating and girls and driving big trucks, and all of that innocence. Later he’d find out that rednec,k also had an ugly side, as I saw earlier in the day when I asked someone about Gadsden, where I will be passing through today. He told me, through a mouth lacking more than a few teeth, to stick to the main road because if I didn’t Id be going through “nigger quarters.” The ugly side of recneckdom…
I took a photo of JT and Drake, and as I was leaving JT called out to me, asking if I wanted a free pizza. For the first time in my life I turned down a free pizza. Who turns down a free pizza? Someone who had fish, chicken sandwiches, apple pies, slim Jims, fried and cole slaw practically thrown at them all day, that is who.
Returning to my tent, in its secret spot, and reflected that Alabama seemed to be a pretty nice place after all. It might even be safe enough for Neil Young to visit.