Instead, we had Starbucks when we arrived for our StoryCorps recording. Virgin Starbucks. Shirley Temple Starbucks. And wooden Dad, who eyed the pythonic gadgetry in the Airstream like it might slither around his body and squeeze him to death.
We had one mission: to tell the story of Dad’s role in saving Charlayne Hunter-Gault, the first African-American woman admitted to the University of Georgia, during the race riots at UGA in 1961. But, that story could not possibly fill thirty minutes, particularly when Dad eyed the bulb of mic like it might bite him and refused to talk unprompted.
Thankfully, Dad kept his mostly empty Starbucks to-go cup. A tall coffee. Decaf. Black. As he slid it around the table top, it worked a miracle and somehow transfered its kinetic energy into Roy.
By the time we got to the UGA story, he was in full Regaling Roy Mode. He even went off on a sidebar, and that’s the piece I’ve embedded in this post. Perhaps some of you regular readers will recognize this story from a tale of fiction I wrote a couple of weeks ago.
About an undertaker.