A Fisher of Men and the Economics of Bad Ass

Dawn came early this morning. I was up at ten minutes to six and the light already shone brightly into my window. Damn, that sun’s kinda high for as early as it is. At six fifteen on I was on the road. At 8 am, I was in my seat at the Red Cross office in Nashville.

I spent the day learning about the history of the Red Cross and getting a general overview of the kind of work that I’ll be doing; specifically, the processes and elements of disaster relief operations. I knew that I’d be preparing for disasters. But what I learned was the resulting reality toward which my work would be focused.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be setting foot in the Tullahoma office for the first time. I can’t adequately describe the excitement I have to finally begin this work, for the rubber to meet the road. I have much to learn about my Counties of Moore, Franklin, and Coffee, though I already have a few ideas. It’s all about utilizing resources, and building relationships. I’ve taken it upon myself to get out and do a fair amount of exploring.

I found the Normandy Dam yesterday, appropriately so named as it serves to contain Lake Normandy. I hiked around briefly, up and down stream, and around the lake. People all over were fishing. Happening upon one man who seemed as if he had fished the same spot every Sunday for thirty years, I asked him “They bitin’?”

“They’re bitin’ alright. But they’re swallowin’ the hook.”

“What are you using?”

“Just some worm,” he responded. “Got it at the shop right up the road.” He also told me where I could buy a fishing license. Another place to kill a weekend. I’m makin’ out just fine.

The whole country outside of Tullahoma is beautiful. Lots of farmland. No crops that I could see, but plenty of cows, a few goats, sheep, and a couple of horses. A few times, I saw Peacocks strutting about in front yards. What the hell? I wonder what those are for.

After returning from the dam, it was still fairly early in the afternoon. I crossed right through town and into neighboring Moore County; part of my territory, a dry county (serves no alcohol), and (ironically) home of the Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg. Needless to say Jack Daniels is the center of the Lynchburg economy. It’s a cute little town with an old courthouse in the center of the square. But for being a cute little town, it’s certainly built on a foundation of bad ass. The square is populated with shops that seem to sell nothing but Jack Daniels memorabilia, motorcycle hardware and accessories, leather goods, and food. Whiskey, choppers, and barbecue. That’s all. And aside from a few cosmetic and technological updates, the town square looks like it was frozen in time at the turn of the twentieth century… No WalMart. No McDonalds. No 7-11.

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Well life on the farm is kinda laid back

Aint much an old country boy like me cant hack

Its early to rise, early in the sack

Thank God Im a country boy

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Well a simple kinda life never did me no harm

A raisin me a family and workin on a farm

My days are all filled with an easy country charm

Thank God Im a country boy