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Jedidiah
© 2011 - William C. Highsmith

The year was 1976 - the tall young soldier fell to his knees and kissed the ground. It was good to be home again. The war in Vietnam had been lost but the conflict with a part of the American public continued. This was discord he did not deserve to be a part of. He had honorably served his country and earned respect. In this case, that was not to be. He could not understand.

Jedidiah arose from his knees and surveyed the scene around him. This farm in south Georgia had been in his family for many generations. In fact, it was awarded to an ancestor named Jeremiah - a former slave owned by one James Arnold. After the Civil War, James divided up his land between his children and a few selected loyal slaves. Now, since he was an only child, the land would pass down to him.

As the scene registered, he noticed the old hay-rake under the ancient oak tree. It brought back many memories. He remembered the farm as it was when he was a lad. He thought of his father as he used to hitch a mule to the hay-rake in the fall and gather food to feed the stock during winter. He smiled as he thought of his Dad. He was a farmer and itinerate preacher aptly named Nahum. His mother's name was Mary. He then began to think of all the different animals of his childhood. There was the mule named Jericho and the pet goat called Moses because of it's grey beard. He chuckled to himself as he remembered - the cows or chickens were not named as they provided groceries. It seemed not fitting to name something you were going to eat.

Jedidiah was now known to his friends as Jeb because of a misspelling of the word Jedidiah. He, like most in his family line, had been named after Bible characters as the clan was very religious. There was much work to be done on the farm to return it to be a profitable enterprise again. Since his father passed away, it had been left in the hands of people hired by his mother and was now in a state of disrepair. That was about to change.

As the days passed, Jeb decided to go to town to pick up some supplies for cleaning and repairs. He had some money saved from his service pay. However, it would not be enough to do everything he wanted to do. He needed to buy a new tractor in time for next spring's planting. Therefore, he would need to take out a loan.

The small town had two banks. One was owned by a white man known as Mr. Crenshaw and the other was owned by a second cousin called Chateaus Hill. He decided to ask Mr. Crenshaw for the loan. He had two reasons for choosing that bank. The number one reason - he did not want family to know his business. The number two reason - Mr. Crenshaw had a son who just came home from Vietnam, too. He would likely be willing to help him get started and certainly would be ready to accept the farm as collateral.

After a little 'tinkering', the old GMC truck fired right up. It seemed good to drive along the country road and have no fear of being shot at. The edge of town came into view. Maybe no one would notice him, since he was not wearing his uniform.

No such luck. "Hey, baby killer! Why don't you fight someone who can fight back?"

Ignoring the taunts of the local 'bad boys', Jeb headed straight to the bank. Just as he thought, Mr. Crenshaw welcomed him home and agreed to making a loan for his needs. Leaving the bank, the young farmer headed to the local hardware store for some lumber, nails, and tools. The thugs were watching him. As he stopped at the front of the store, they accosted him yet again. This time, they referred to his heritage. That was their big mistake. Instead of going directly into the store, he purposely moved to an alleyway between the buildings and the loud-mouths followed him; however, there were only three of them. That, too, was an error. His training 'kicked in' and the bullies were not a problem. After finishing the business in the alley, he then went into the hardware store to purchase the needed items.

"Hey Jeb - it's good to see you, son. Do you need a band-aid to go on your knuckles" asked the smiling proprietor?

"No thank you sir - however, I do need a pair of work gloves and this list of items for the farm."

By William C. Highsmith - July 12, 2011