No doubt that 2020 was a rough year for everyone however within ten days spring will have sprung and we Mississippians can celebrate and thank the Lord for survival.

But it wasn’t so a few years ago. Read more as I tell you the story of a distraught businessman.

As related by my friend who lives in a small town north of Meridian, this man was at his wit’s end. You see the town of 4,700 souls had had a blight of sorts.

My friend, Thursalene, remembered all too well the look upon this man’s face, a certain Mr. Sapp.

Thursalene said, “He looked like death.”

That’s significant because you see the Sapp family had owned the town’s only funeral home for 75 plus years, a very profitable business. But now there was a problem.

It was when Thursalene was in the produce section of the town’s only grocery store that Mr. Sapp grabbed her by the arm, right there at the collard and turnip green cooler. He seemed more than desperate.

“What on earth, Sappy?” (his nickname for fifty years).

“Thursalene, I just don’t know what to do?”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

I mean it wasn’t like Sappy to be despondent. He always had a good word for everyone, the living ones, however not too much for the dead. And during flu season, he was downright giddy, when business was good, but on this day it was different.

He continued his tale of woe. “Thursalene, you being a good friend and all. I mean I’ve buried your mama, your brother, and all of your cousins. I feel I can confide in you.”

“Well, yes, you can, she said,” all worried like.

“Oh (with a sudden light in his eyes) and how’s your husband, Eddie? Is he well or what?”

“He’s just fine,” Thursalene answered, rather shortly.

Sappy took a deep breath. “You know my family has had an outstanding business for years and years taking care of all the townspeople at their time of need.”

“Well, yes I do.” Thursalene was beginning to get concerned.

“Oh, how do I say this? Thursalene, my friend, it all might end soon if something drastic doesn’t happen quick.”

“I just can’t believe it,” she answered. “What is going on?”

“Thursalene, you may not be aware but death is at an all time low. I’ve only buried three people during the last 60 days. I can’t live like this! Something has got to happen.”

Thursalene was stunned.

Sappy didn’t notice her reaction and continued his whine with a faraway look in his eyes.

“It all started with those gosh-dern high potency vitamins and minerals. Why folks flocked to them like monkeys on cupcakes. Then with all of their excess energy signed long extended contracts at Skinny Minnie’s Gym and now they’re walking like crazy, too boot. When they pass by the funeral home, folks wave with big smiles on their faces. If that wasn’t enough, all of the townspeople began eating good, healthy food and threw out all of the fatty and greasy stuff, like fried pork chops. I tell you I’ll be shutdown within six months!”

Thursalene looked down at the pork chops in her buggy and after a long awkward moment made a suggestion. “Have you thought about opening a vitamin store or starting-up a grain-fed hog farm?”

“Huh?”

Then Thursalene said, rather hurriedly. “Sappy, gotta run now. I just remembered I need to make a stop by the vitamin store, right after I drop these pork chops back off at the meat cooler.”

Yep, that’s how it all came down a while back in the small town where my friend, Thursalene lives. She confided that she and her man, Eddie, didn’t plan to help keep Sappy’s business going, not right away, anyway.

Reminds me of a poem I saw posted many years ago on a bulletin board. It was a notice to sign for an exercise class.

Pork chops, pork chops,

greasy, greasy.

We’ll get rid of this weight

easy, easy.

Live longer, be happier

easy, peasy.

Lemon squeezy.

–unknown

The names have been changed to protect the innocent…

Anne B McKee is a Mississippi historian, writer and storyteller. She is listed on the Mississippi Humanities Speakers Bureau and Mississippi Arts Commission’s Performing Artist and Teaching Artist Rosters. See her web site: www.annemckeestoryteller.com