In Memory of Tammy

I was jealous of her. She was tall, blond, and beautiful. I thought she had it all.

Mrs. Rogers let us have our morning break about 10:30 that morning. As the other girls left to go outside to smoke, Tammy stayed behind with me that day. Tammy wore a pretty pink blouse and matching slacks with 1 inch heels—not that she needed them. She would pull her blond hair up into a bun every morning, and she was careful not to wear to much make-up. She took pride in her appearance, and up until this morning I believed she had so much self-confidence flowing from her that I didn't think she ever worried about anyone or anything.

She wanted to speak privately with me. She was on the verge of bursting into tears. She needed a friend.

"My father hates me, and I think I was adopted." She cried. "I don't look nothing like my parents."

"Oh my." Is all I could say. I couldn't think of anything to say.

"I asked my mother to give me my birth certificate because I need it for this job."

"Right." I nodded.

"But she won't give it to me." She lowered her head and started weeping. She proceeded to tell me about how her family treated her as an outcast. Her father doesn't want anything to do with her. She told me about her four children. Two of them lived with their biological fathers, and the other two with her parents. Even her closest sister wouldn't return her phone calls. She was a lost soul, and all I could do was just sit and listen. All that physical beauty disappeared before my eyes as she spoke and she revealed the person deep down inside. I didn't know how to comfort her; I was only 23.

***

After about 3 weeks into the 8-week program, on a Friday, we caught a ride with another girl, Miranda, whom Tammy invited to her house for the evening. I rode in the front with Miranda in her pickup, and Tammy rode in the back with Miranda's sister, Sherry. The nursing home was about 15 miles from our houses, and the county roads would wind around hills and curves. Miranda drove to fast. So fast that I would have to hang onto something. Tammy was standing in the bed of the truck waving to people in their yards and having fun. She would holler and do all kinds of crazy things. I saw how fast Miranda was driving, and, at 80 mph, it made me nauseous. But we made it to Tammy's house, and we had a good time talking late into the night. That following Monday, Tammy quit the program to be a CNA, but I kept going.

************ A couple of weeks later *********

I was at a neighbor's house, standing on the dirt road that connected our houses. Tammy was walking by to go to the mailbox on the other side of the highway. I wanted to talk to Tammy, so I told my neighbor goodbye and waited for Tammy to come back.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm doing good. What about you?"

"Good, good." Taking a deep breath. "Hey, I wanted to tell you about that day that those girls gave us a ride home from Rison."

"Yea?"

"Do you know she was driving 80 miles per hour?" I asked.

"No." She looked amazed. "I could have been killed."

"Yeah, I thought you should know. They both quit coming the other day, so I imagine they won't be back."

"Wow. I got some good news." She came on over closer to me.
"I called one of those psychic hotlines, and she told me I would meet a tall, dark stranger before Christmas." She gleamed. "I'm pretty sure it's Tom. I mean, he's got dark hair and all. Maybe we'll be getting married soon."

"Great, great. I'm happy for you." I smiled.

"Well, I gotta go. See ya later." She gave me a quick hug and left.

"See ya." I watched her walk down the one-lane drive to her house at the end of the dead end road.

**********   A few days later   *********

It wasn't Christmas yet. It wasn't hot, but it was an unusually warm day in December. I had to leave for work at 2:30 to be there at 3 PM. I was all dressed in my whites and sitting on the couch, looking out my front living room window, smoking a cigarette, and waiting for my brother and his best friend, Robert, to finish changing the oil in his car.

"Hi!" I heard my brother holler.

And in slow motion, I watched as the two-door red cavalier driven by Tammy sped by. Her arm, waving, high out the window. No sooner had I turned to crush my cigarette in an ashtray when I heard another sound that wasn't as friendly.

"Holy crap!" Robert yelled. I looked out the window and saw both of them running.

"She got hit! She got hit!" My brother yelled.

I ran out the front door and took off down the dirt road as fast as I could without getting out of breath. I saw cars already backing up on the highway. Before I could get there, Tom's father came driving his little Toyota pickup. Robert and my brother had opened the passenger side door to get her out of that little car. I saw a big blue RV shoved into the side of the red car that pushed her into the ditch. All the mail boxes and that days mail were scattered in the ditch. I looked into the car and saw the driver's seat, maybe 3 inches across.

"I didn't see her. I didn't see her." The nervous man who drove the RV kept repeating.

I saw her body laid on the ground. Tom's dad got down on the ground next to her, trying to comfort her. Her shiny blond hair now red. Her body broken. She coughed and sputtered. Never opening her eyes. This beautiful girl lay there on the green grass, dirty and shivering from the loss she has suffered.

Shocked and frozen in time, standing still. It could have been me. She was 29 years young. Wake up, wake up.

More people came. Law enforcement cleared off the road for the helicopter. The medics put her on a flat stretcher and took her away. I could only stand there and think—she met her tall, dark stranger.

**********

This is based on a true story. Names were changed except for Tammy. She was so true and had so much potential. She wanted to be a nurse who worked in the trauma unit at a hospital. All of this seems ironic now as I look back. After years of soul searching - I wish I had done more. I should have ministered to her. I was young and had only been baptized four years earlier. At the time, I didn't think about telling her about Jesus. I do have regrets about not praying with her and for her. I have searched my own soul and asked for forgiveness for not taking that opportunity to share the good news of Jesus Christ. If you find yourself in this type of situation, share Jesus with that person because you may be there last hope.

Lisa's Corner #21

A new place in Sardis called "Farm to Table Country Kitchen and Vintage Market" opened earlier this year. After the previous owner closed up shop, I figured it would just sit there as another empty building.

One weekend while driving by on Sardis Road, my husband and I were talking about what we would do it if we were able to get the building. I was thinking it would be a good place for a community center to rent out for weddings, family reunions, birthdays, etc. My husband thought it would be a great place to open a resturant and play live music. Back in the 90’s, we lived in Monticello and patronized a place called Melodies and Meals. They played live music and the owners wife cooked all the food. It was only a small place on Main Street in Monticello but the local musicians came to practice and play.

Tom Self and Carl Johnson (my dad). Taken in the mid 1980's.

My husband and I have been in the resale business for over 20 years together. I grew up with a father who would sell at the Pine Bluff Flea Market and he opened several different kinds of small shops in Sheridan. Buying and selling has been part of my life for most of my life so having a husband who also grew up buying and selling shouldn’t be no surprise to those who know me. My husband has been buying and selling since he could pull his little red wagon. He would sell turnip greens from his daddies garden. He was the youngest buyer in Southeast Arkansas at the local auction in Monticello. He was a ringman at the local auction and worked with several different auctioneers over the years. Everyone in Monticello knew him and selling is in his blood. He is also knowable in antique glass and vintage stuff in general. His auction family taught him well.

We personally know Wesley and Charlene Brown who now own the metal building next to the Dollar Store on Sardis. They are having great success. The locals are coming in to check it out even if it is just to browse. Everyone keeps asking about the kitchen. I think everyone is going to be surprised when they get a taste of Charlene’s cooking. She can cook anything. I am so glad that it was bought by them. They even have kept the Shoe tree alive that was taken down by the road department. A local painter painted a likeness of the Shoe tree on the metal building complete with shoes.

So when you have a free Saturday afternoon, take a little drive to Sardis. You will know you are in Sardis because you will see a sign that states “All Roads Lead to Sardis.” Stop in and say “hi” to Wesley and Charlene. Please feel free to browse around. They have a little bit of everything and if they don’t have it just ask. Tell them what you are looking for and they will pass it on to their booth renters. We like to know what you are looking for whether it is something vintage, handmade or new. Let us know. Your feedback is greatly appreciated.

I think we have a strong community that can band together to help support our local business. Thanks again, Lisa Sanders 08/12/2018.