What's this about Alabama, keeps coming back to me?

I pressed my ear against the door of this church last Sunday and heard the preacher talking about being a Christian to his congregation. It was pretty amazing to be standing out there.

Addie Mae Collins, Denise McNair, Carole Robertson, and Cynthia Wesley were killed here on September 15, 1963. One was 11, the rest 14 years old.

From Martin Luther King's eulogy:

"The innocent blood of these little girls may well serve as a redemptive force that will bring new light to this dark city. The holy Scripture says, "A little child shall lead them." The death of these little children may lead our whole Southland from the low road of man's inhumanity to man to the high road of peace and brotherhood. These tragic deaths may lead our nation to substitute an aristocracy of character for an aristocracy of color. The spilled blood of these innocent girls may cause the whole citizenry of Birmingham to transform the negative extremes of a dark past into the positive extremes of a bright future. Indeed this tragic event may cause the white South to come to terms with its conscience. "

Read about how 40 years later Birmingham still struggles with it's violent past.

In Neil Young's famous song he sings, "Alabama, you got
the weight on your shoulders" and I think it's still true.

Six days in Alabama was excellent. Sitting in a backyard, avoiding fire ants, drinking cokes and talking to an endless stream of cousins in the early heat of summer while thunderstorms rolled in and out was just what the doctor ordered for me.

I've got pictures of the food I ate so I won't forget the fried okra, butter beans, catfish, fried cornbread, slaw, and butterfinger cake and the gallons of sweet tea I drank. Thanks to the sunshine, my neck is even a bit red. I think my cousins would say I inherited that though--they kept saying they were rednecks. I thought that was a derogatory term, but I guess that's only if it's coming from a Yankee.

There's more to come about Alabama from me. This train was slowly moving past the Whistle Stop Cafe (where Fannie Flagg based the book) in Irondale. I sat inside and appropriately ate fried green tomatoes.