Postcards from Vernon (Part 1)

The following are not my words. They are the words used to describe the film “Vernon, Florida,” by director Errol Morris. This is what it notes about the film on the Wikipedia website.

“Vernon, Florida is a 1981 documentary film produced and directed by Errol Morris profiling various eccentric residents living within the town of Vernon, Florida. Originally titled Nub City, this follow-up to Gates of Heaven was initially focused on residents of the Southern town who cut off their own limbs as a way to collect insurance money. After Morris's life was threatened by the subjects of the film, he re-worked Nub City into Vernon, Florida.”

It makes me sick to read such things. The film basically makes fun of the eccentric folks in and around Vernon, Florida. Show me a town or city without such folks.

You can’t.

I grew up going to Vernon, Florida with my Papa (grandfather). We went simply because it was a place we could go – a destination. It was the late 60’s and early 70’s and the folks there treated us kindly. We would simply drive the five hours it took, stopping to buy peanuts, hoop cheese, RC colas and the like, and then we would arrive at which point Papa would calmly say, “We are in Vernon now.”

Papa took me to a place where folks were nice and moved slow. It was not unlike Wedowee, Alabama where he lived, but it was without some of the obligations back home in Alabama.

After many years, I returned in 2011 to fall in love again with the place, the people and LIFE. It was like having the best of everything - like finding a gas station that has fried chicken when you are running on fumes and starving.

I returned again in the summer of 2012 at the invitation of a magazine publisher who puts my picture and my words in her publication. For this, I am deeply thankful.

Although I only stayed for the better part of one day, I found out more secrets about Vernon. These are the types of secrets that Errol Morris doesn’t want you to know about. Hollywood types want you to think that the South is full of all of these terrible things and people.

I’ve been a lot of places and I have found that you can find bad things and people everywhere. Those are the pictures that newspaper, television and movie folks like to point out and put in their papers, newscasts and films.

We don’t need that. Therefore, I’m sending postcards from Vernon about the good stuff. That doesn’t do it justice. I’m better off saying the “Best Stuff.” Although I didn’t grow up here, I grew up going here and I loved it.

Now, I love it more.

These are my people.

The nice publisher lady called me and asked, “Are you in Florida this week?” I said, “You know I am.”

She then said, “There is something up here you have to see.” I said, “Ok, I can be there by 6 AM.” The publisher then said, “8:30 would be better and bring a swimsuit.”

The swimsuit part bothered me a little bit. All I could think about was alligators and snakes. Vernon is not on the Gulf of Mexico, it’s more up toward the Alabama line.

I did what she asked me to do. I put my swimsuit on, put two of my children in the car and headed out to meet her at the Vernon Post Office at 8:30. I figured she wouldn’t let me get eaten by an alligator in front of my children and if she did, I left one child behind to carry on the family tree in the event we were all eaten.

She met me with her husband and two wonderful children. She informed me we were going to “Cypress Springs” and we could only get there by boat. I’m not sure if it’s Cypress Spring or Cypress Springs, it doesn’t matter, I found out it was pretty close to heaven as far as I was concerned.

We stopped by a service station for ice and headed to the edge of town where we went down a narrow road and ended up at the Culpepper Landing of Holmes Creek. The publisher’s husband put his boat in and we loaded up.

Holmes creek was peaceful and beautiful; we passed a lady in some sort of motorized canoe. This made sense to me. As we got closer and closer to our destination, it seemed as though someone had turned the air conditioner on outside – it was incredible.

On this day when the temperatures were going to get close to or over 100 degrees, it was cooling off as we got closer to Cypress Springs.

The temperature was going down and the music was getting louder. As we got closer, what I saw and what I felt would change me even more. I bet Errol Morris didn’t go to Cypress Springs and he wouldn’t know the sound of Hank Williams Jr. if it was blaring in his ears.

Oh my word, I was in a Hank Williams Jr. video – this was it, the real deal, one of Vernon’s secrets I didn't know about. There were a lot of folks there and it was early Sunday morning. I guessed it wasn’t a secret to the locals.

I’ll fill you in more in Part 2. Just know that I was in the presence of “my people.”

You can find Part 2 here. Also feel free to take a look at my Picture Postcards from Vernon, Florida.

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Cranks My Tractor

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