Voicemail (February 21, 2008)

I’ve noticed how most college-goers can be harsh on non-college-goers, be it rumors or silly talk. I think people are too serious when it comes to college and have experienced stress and b.s. while attending a local college in Sevier County. I left college, as students have no more rights to speak or really think for themselves. Staff, as I have experienced, have gone beyond being kind to being rash in their actions to students they claim have a “bad attitude” toward education. I, like most, realize the higher education system is based on mind and behavior manipulations of students. The student has no rights anymore. The prices for a class and the long hours devoted to one specific class are a killjoy.

Today I needed a muffler. My “car guy” named Dean sends me out Magnolia Avenue because these guys are good. There was a wait, so I had plenty of time to hang out. My car, named Simone de la Subaru, needs more than a muffler, she is menopausal — actually, all of my cars have been menopausal, the last being Delilah the Datsun. Such were the state of affairs as I set out on Magnolia Avenue, which feels more like Magnolia Highway, in search of a cup of coffee to wait for the transplant.

Last week, I delivered some art to Turkey Creek. I did not think about it then, but thoughts entered my mind searching for that coffee: I found so many boarded-up, shut-down places — this was a place where no one was spending money, no one had money to spend. It made me reflect on Turkey Creek, where people go to spend lots and lots and lots of money. After passing up Hardee’s, Taco Bell, a ribs place and an intriguing place serving Philippine carry-out, I found Chandler’s Restaurant that, as well as serving pigs’ feet and chitterlings, had a very impressive spread of vegetables.

Being a vegetarian, I passed up the pigs’ feet for a steamed ear of corn and fried okra. I passed up the greens, sweet potatoes and other delights because there was only so much time — the food was great and I left a tip with the cashier who said she would give it to her mother who had served me — and the muffler was in place.

Delivering my art and receiving my muffler exposed me to two very different worlds, and even driving with a now-quiet car, I could not help but think of the contrast. We all need to think about it a lot. We all need to stop by Chandler’s Restaurant every now and then for some good home-style cooking. And please, don’t forget to tip.