Papa was predictable. Grandmama would be nagging at him, or he might just feel like doing nothing, or he might feel like going on an adventure. Papa would look at me and ask “You know what we ought to do?” I knew what he was going to say, but I still asked “What?”
Papa then said “Let’s go to Vernon.”
Vernon, Florida was between 4 and 5 hours away from Randolph County, Alabama if you were actually trying to get there for some reason. It would take Papa about six hours. We would stop at every boiled peanut stand, every monument and any other place that looked interesting for a little boy, a dog and granddaddy.
Why Vernon, Florida?
I honestly don’t know. He would say things like “There are no problems in Vernon,” “I may run for Mayor of Vernon,” or “We’ll figure out what to do once we get there.”
Papa would pick up his little dog (usually a Chihuahua) and we would get in his little car, usually some sort of Volkswagen and we would head south to Vernon usually with some hoop cheese, crackers and a soda water (some kind of Nehi usually).
Sometimes we would get all the way there and sometimes we wouldn’t. Vernon was a state of mind. Being a little boy and going to Vernon was what was right with the world. It was about being carefree and full of Nehi. It was about sticking your head out the window and listening to Papa talk on his Ham Radio.
When we would make it to Vernon, we would usually get out of the car and stand in the middle of town. It’s not very big. There were a couple of old Oak trees, a courthouse and a sign. After Papa and I got out of the car, he would usually just say, “Here we are,” or “We’re in Vernon now.” It felt good. It was an accomplishment, a destination and a dream that we could make come true.
After going to Vernon, we would either go back to his house or head on down to Panama City Beach, Florida, the “Redneck Riviera.” Things like this, you don’t forget, you want to go there and experience it again.
Some 40 years later, I got the chance. I was traveling back from Port St. Joe to Destin, Florida. Vernon was in reach, it was there. Vernon was calling me. To be honest, I was a little scared. Could she give me what she did when I was a little boy? Would Vernon mean as much as she did when I was there with Papa?
I had to know.
I headed north on Florida State Route 79. I was excited. When I saw the sign that said “Vernon City Limit,” I wanted to cry. This was and will always be a special place. A place that makes me think of Papa, Nehi’s and loving life.
It turned out to be a day I will never forget. Vernon is in my blood, special things happen there. People don’t understand, and that’s ok.
When you ask folks that live in Florida cities close by, cities that are a little more cultured and such, they will say “Why would you want to go to Vernon?” You can only say “I have to,” or “You wouldn’t understand.” They won’t. There are only a special few that understand. It’s about love, life and happiness.
I started in the Vernon Post Office. The young girl there was very nice. She told me if I wanted to know about Vernon, I needed to go talk to “Ms. Fannie Lou.” Ms. Fannie Lou is a story in herself, and yes I spent the afternoon talking to her. My next story will cover that experience.
From the post office, I went to the library. They were very nice to me there. The librarian pulled a bunch of books out on Vernon for me. It was a very small library, but it was beautiful.
Something was wrong with the picture in my mind, it wasn’t the same. The librarian explained it to me. She told me that in the last six months, they had cut the two old oak trees down to make room for a new four lane highway. They also bulldozed the old county courthouse. The Washington County seat had been moved to Chipley years ago.
The two big stumps and the construction equipment broke my heart, but they didn’t steal my memories. These are memories of Papa, his little dogs, Nehi soda waters, cheese crackers, boiled peanuts, the windows rolled down and all of our troubles left somewhere far behind.
I will forever be in love with Vernon, Florida, the way she makes me feel and the memories that I will cherish forever.
My next few stories will cover one of the most beautiful people I have ever met. She lives in Vernon, her name is “Ms. Fannie Lou,” and she will be 90 this summer. (She also has a teapot that plays music.)
Ms. Fannie Lou - The First Lady of Vernon
Ms. Fannie Lou's Pound Cake & Miracle Eggs
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Tell 27 people you love them today; something good will happen.
I'm BN Heard and I like semicolons, dogs and cold Nehi soda waters.
I grew up there so it's my favorite town, too.
Posted by: Janice Brock Minchin | 04/12/2011 at 10:55 PM
Vernon is my hometown.My parents and I lived in that old yellow duplex just up the road from the elementry school then we moved to the old Parish house.My mom and daddy was on the fire dept.and Dad was on the city counsel a few times.I went to school there kindergarden through the 12 grade,and I'm not ashamed to say it either.I am of the Austin family all of the Austin brothers and sisters grew up there and all but 2 died there.The Vernon in my mind is andwill always be home to me,but when I drive down main street it breaks my heart,its all gone all I have of Vernon now are my memories and a few pictures.Its very sad to go there now the Vernon now is no longer home to me or my family.We have started over again in a little town in northern Alabama called Hanceville.It has some of the little town charm Vernon used to have before it was plowed down.It just makes me so sad.I miss the Vernon in my memories and pictures.
Posted by: Christina Austin-Taylor | 04/13/2011 at 12:56 AM
Lived in Vernon also moved away joined the navy in 07 i dont even drive through anymore they destroyed all our memories there when they made room for the highway man do I miss it
Posted by: samuel owens | 04/13/2011 at 05:14 AM
Returned to my hometown of Vernon after being away for 35 yrs, True, it has changed in many ways but is still a wonderful place to live "far from the madding crowd." The creek's still cold & clear, traffic's slow, & it's full of caring, friendly people. Shh! Don't tell anybody, tho. They might want to come live here, too.
Posted by: Rhonda Dalton Dickinson | 04/13/2011 at 10:59 PM