You don’t always have to know someone in order to learn a great deal from them. Sometimes, just using our eyes and ears will tell us a lot.
We had just pulled up to Bubba-Doo’s. It was a Saturday morning, and my wife and I were out running errands. We decided to start our day with an enjoyable breakfast there in the restaurant. As we walked through the parking lot, we encountered a middle-aged fellow named Jason.
I know who Jason is but don’t really know him. If that makes sense. However, the scowl on his face and the way he mumbled aloud told me all I cared to know on that particular day. “What’s the world coming to when Bubba-Doo’s is all woke?!” he said to no one in particular as he passed us.
Charles Qualls
I turned and watched him get into his large SUV. He had the look of someone who might not care to return to the store again anytime soon.
“Bubba-Doo’s is woke? What in the world was that all about?” I mumbled to myself in like fashion. My wife heard me, of course. We cut a glance at each other and both shrugged our shoulders.
I’m not always sure people use the relatively new term of “woke” in all the same ways. Definitions might vary by the user. But it’s never a compliment. That much I am solid on. Again, I used my eyes and ears as we got situated inside.
“What do you think had that guy all stirred up?” my wife soon asked. “Bubba-Doo’s is about the least woke place I would think anyone could go.” She was right. It’s an old country store, lovingly described as being a retail crossroads out in the middle of nowhere.
Here, the parking lot runs deep and wide with pickup trucks and SUVs. Now, I do realize we’re in a time when celebrity actors, athletes and chefs all seem to covet the ideal pickup truck. Everyone is pickup crazy these days, it seems.
As for politics and culture, the store is realistically purple.”
However, one can easily tell the difference between a weekend warrior motorcycle rider and a genuine Harley full-timer. Likewise, the pickup trucks in the parking lot at Bubba-Doo’s are aged in real farm use. There’s mud on the tires, hay in the beds and the distinctive smell of chewing tobacco inside some of them. Merely walking by, others will share a wafting of the sweet bovine or equine scents.
As for politics and culture, the store is realistically purple. That is, you’ll run across both Republicans and Democrats inside. In fairly equal measure. There is much give-and-take as the conversations jostle at times. But the overall culture is rural and conservative.
Winston waved from over near the cash register. We waved back, always glad to be recognized and welcomed. I noticed a new employee and thought she looked familiar. Once we ordered, I told my wife I’d be back in just a minute. I headed over to meet the new person behind the counter.
“Pastor,” Winston said as I walked up, “I want to introduce you to my niece.”
The young woman behind the counter looked to be about 35. She was familiar in the community. I know I had seen her in town some. “Hey,” she said. “My name’s Patsie, but everyone calls me Bug.”
“Bug, it sure is good to meet you. You’re Winston’s niece, huh? I’ll bet you could give us the skinny on him from a family perspective,” I countered.
Bug grinned and nodded in the affirmative. “So, you’re working here now?” I asked.
“Just started last week,” Winston volunteered. “Bug already has done a variety of things, including an office manager job out at the construction company. Worked on the crew but got so valuable filling in on various things that they put her to running the inside part of the operation.”
“Really?!” I reacted. “Well, what brings you here?”
Bug replied: “Winston’s been pushing me over the years to come to work with him. After more than 10 years with the company, now seemed like a good time to come over and give this a try.”
“I know Winston is glad to have another family member in the fold.”
That sounded good to me. I know Winston is glad to have another family member in the fold. His boys had grown up and moved into careers away from the area. Neither was a candidate to take over the business one day.
Right as I was mulling all of that over, Winston spoke up. “Give this a try? She’s already fitting in just great. I got to admit that she’s better at some of this than I am. She brings some good company experience from all those years in business.”
Then he added, “Besides, I won’t be doing this forever. One of these days, I’ll get to want’n to get out of here. Maybe go do some traveling. I’d love to have someone to hand this off to when the time comes.”
“Shoot, it would be nice for you to know you can get out of here just for a day right now and not have to worry about the place. Right?!” I speculated.
Winston’s face lit up. “Yep, that’s a real nice thought,” he agreed. “I might just do some of that as she gets adjusted.”
“OK, well I’m going to go back over to the table. My wife’s chatting with some of the others and our breakfast will be out soon, I’m sure.”
“It was good to see you!” Bug called out.
“Yep, I’ll be seeing you again soon. Glad you’re here.” I said as I turned to go rejoin the table.
Breakfast was good. My wife has gone off-menu and developed her own special item. It’s sort of an omelet that is scrambled rather than folded. Mostly, it’s like scrambled eggs with chunks of sweet “city” ham and some shredded cheddar cheese mixed in.
The servers all know to just write down “Hammie-cheesies” when she orders. Then, they just make up a price that seems to vary from one to the next.
“I was knuckles deep in the last portion of my breakfast sandwich when Winston came over.”
It’s an off-menu item, for sure. But when that order goes in, we’ll usually see Danny step over to the door in his apron and wave at us. He knows we’re there by those two words. If we run into Danny anywhere in the community, he’ll hug her and call my wife by the nickname “Hammie-cheesie!”
Sure enough, that’s what she had ordered, along with some fruit and a piece of wheat toast. She was finishing that up, and Angel had just freshened up her coffee. I was knuckles deep in the last portion of my breakfast sandwich when Winston came over.
He joined us at the table. He had a serious look on his face. I asked him if everything was OK.
“Well, I think so. I hope so. It’s Bug.”
Instinctively, I responded by saying, “Tell me more.”
“She’s smart as all get out. She’s savvy and truthfully, she reminds me a lot of me,” he began.
“That all sounds pretty good so far,” I summarized. “So, what’s got you bothered?”
“It ain’t her. I’m not worried about her being the right one. I’ve known for years that this business probably needs a lot of what she’s going to bring us.”
“Then what is it?” my wife asked.
“I just can’t figure out how some of the customers are going to respond to her.”
“I just can’t figure out how some of the customers are going to respond to her,” Winston confided in us.
“OK, I’m listening. Can you tell us a sentence or two more about that?” I nudged.
“Some of them have friended her on the social media thing. They’ve looked at her profile. It don’t take long for word to get around once something of interest catches their eyes,” he assessed.
“What got around?” I simply came out and asked.
“That fellow Jason has discovered that she served a year as president of an LGBTQ group over in the city. It’s got him all bent out of shape. He just can’t let it go. He’s running around telling everyone who’ll listen.”
“How’re you feeling about that?” I asked.
“Does that bother you?” my wife asked.
“Oh, I’ve known she was gay since she was a teenager. Heck, she confided in me years ago. I’ve always been the one in the family she could talk with about stuff since she was a little girl,” Winston explained.
“Now, I think I know why Jason was mumbling about Bubba-Doo’s being woke as we met him in the parking lot this morning. He was talking out loud to no one,” I shared.
“It doesn’t bother me in the least,” Winston offered. “Took me a while to learn how to say all those initials though.”
“LGBTQ?” I asked.
“Yep. Then, just as I got that, they added the plus,” Winston said. “I try to understand,” he added. “It’s not my way of life, but it doesn’t diminish the fact that she’s my flesh-and-blood.”
We nodded at what Winston had just volunteered.
“Besides,” he went on. “She’s smart as a whip and once folks get to know her, I think she’s going to do great here. Honestly, she could be the one,” he said.
“The one you could pass it on to?”
“Yep, I’ve got no doubt. If she wants the place. She’ll have to figure that out herself.”
“I don’t know how many Jasons there are.”
“So, what’s your worry about how the customers are going to respond?” I probed.
“Truthfully, I don’t know how many Jasons there are. Hateful people who’ll sweat being around someone who’s not just like they are. Tell you what, I’ve already spent a day or so jotting down names of who I truly think could balk at this. People who might have a real problem.”
“Because she’s gay?” my wife asked.
“Yep. Because she’s gay.” Winston answered.
We took a minute to absorb what he was saying.
“OK. So, what’s the tally so far? How many do you think might actually stop doing business with you? If that’s what you’re really thinking might happen.” I finally asked.
“I do think some of them will stop buying here. Stop eating here. But so far, when it comes right down to it I think I might lose about six regulars. Them and their families. Good paying customers who do a lot of business with me.”
“Ooooo … I’m sorry. That hurts,” I reacted.
“Why do you think this is the thing that matters to them?” Winston asked.
“I wish I knew. Only thing I’ve ever been able to come up with is that a lot of us react badly, at times, when we perceive someone is different from us in some way,” I speculated.
Then I added, “People have been acting poorly over differences since biblical times. The whole Scripture story is chock full of it.”
“I guess that’s true, what little I know of it,” Winston reflected.
“History has shown us that religious differences have made people fight. Political differences, economic differences, racial and ethnic differences. A lot of pain has been caused in human history over differences,” I said.
“Well, I admit I don’t understand her being gay.” Winston said. “I’ve always been straight, I guess that’s what it’s called. Liked girls since I was just a boy. But that’s never mattered to me about loving Bug. Not one bit. I used to hold her in my arms when she was little.”
I told Winston about an old doctor friend I have. He’s a deacon in another Baptist church across the way. Recently, he retired. We had a similar conversation one day. The doctor told me, “I’ve been a straight man all my life. Heck, I’m in my 80s and married to the same woman for nearly 60 years.”
This physician added, “I walk into the mall and I see boys holding hands. Girls kissing girls. I don’t relate to it. But I’ve spent a career reading medical literature. One thing is clear: They were born that way. They didn’t choose to be that different.”
Winston considered this.
Then I added, “Every person I’ve met who fits one of those categories, if we’ve had honest dialogue, eventually they’ll say the same thing. That they didn’t choose this lifestyle. They are convinced they were born this way.”
My wife asked, “Why do we pick one issue and make that the big thing that we’re willing to protest, hate and divide over?”
“I wish I knew,” I responded. “You know, Jesus had some things to say on matters like this. Of course, we could spend all day discussing that if they were born this way, then how could it be a sin? But Jesus told hypocrites to first take the plank out of our own eye, and then we will see clearly to remove the speck from our brother’s eye.”
“Everyone’s a family-values conservative when it’s only hypothetical.”
“He also said for us to love one another, just as he has already loved us” my wife added correctly. “The world has enough for us to divide up around. Why do we have to worry so much about what people are doing at home?”
“Here’s the other thing I’ve noticed,” I finally said. “Everyone’s a family-values conservative when it’s only hypothetical. But you let their son come out of the closet and things look different. They won’t break up a family over sexual preference, I’ve found. Most of them, anyway. I’ve had some penitent people turn up at my doorstep when a stance they took finally got a relative’s name put to it.”
“You let their granddaughter fly out of the country and get a bad abortion because there was no legal option for her here, and suddenly things look different. Or, your own daughter has health issues early in a pregnancy. Her life’s in danger. Suddenly, they’ll wish she had a good, board-certified option here. It’s all easy until the name and face of your loved one gets attached.”
Winston grunted and nodded.
“I’m noticing something else about that word ‘woke,’” I observed. “Almost every time I hear something judged as woke, it’s usually in response to a person or a cause Jesus would have cared about. People who use that term are almost always supposedly Christian, and almost always on the opposite side of a matter from what I think Jesus would have been.”
We all sat for a time. Now, I asked Winston a new question. “What do you think you’ll do about any of those customers you’re worried about losing?”
Winston looked off in the distance. He thought. Then, I could tell he was sitting up to answer. “If they want to talk about it, I’ll bring ’em over here and buy ’em a Coke and we can talk about it. I’ll try my best to reason with them. Tell them that I sure hate to lose their business.”
“I don’t need the business of anyone who is hateful and narrow-minded.”
“But what if there’s no reasoning?” I followed.
“I’ll show ’em the door myself if that’s the best they can do. She’s family and I’m committed to her. I won’t sell out my family. Bug will be just fine. It may just take some sorting out. There’s too much here for folks to enjoy and come be a part of. We can agree about a lot, but I know folks won’t ever agree on everything.”
“You mean that, then?” my wife pressed him.
“I don’t need the business of anyone who is hateful and narrow-minded,” Winston said resolutely. “We’re doing just fine. I won’t sell my soul for a hateful person’s dollar.”
There it was. I’m not sure what I expected him to say. But that stance made me feel better about humanity than I had in a while. My goodness, if you changed the subject to some other difference, any of a dozen other life factors, these hills would be full of people wondering why the world around them can’t have a place to include them.
That’s sad. Especially where a country crossroads store can be the gathering spot for quite a diversity of humanity, if folks won’t mess it up for no good reason. Here’s the irony. Bug or no Bug, whatever “woke” is, Bubba-Doo’s is about as far from it as something can be.
But the pacesetter of this establishment got things right. Winston has weighed things out and he seems resolved. He has arrived at a conviction he feels is worth paying a price over. It happens now and again, and so often it’s even right here. Out in the country, at a store with a funny name but an important way of life.
Charles Qualls serves as pastor of Franklin Baptist Church in Franklin, Va. He is the author of eight books.
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