You Don't Mean It!

"108 Johnson Street"

Lula Bell is 95 years old now, but you'd never know it, except for her simple surroundings and her timeless story. She lives in Andalusia Manor in Andalusia, Alabama and is a breath of fresh air in an age when time seems to pass so rapidly for the rest of us. For Lula Bell, time simply doesn't exist. "Guess how old I am!" she says during our visit. I'd already been informed that she had broken 90 a few years ago, so I had a good idea. But, after thinking about it for a minute or two, I smiled really big and said "Twenty-nine, I bet you're twenty nine, aren't you!" I thought she'd raise the roof with her laughter. She slapped her thigh so hard I worried about a bruise.




What a great blessing to see her laugh so genuinely. You know, I'm not sure that our generation and those that follow behind us fully understand and appreciate genuine emotion anymore. I think it's something that we've lost along the way ... and I bet God cries at that realization. But today, we got a glimpse of what it's supposed to be like. After Connie told her how pretty she was, Lula Bell smiled and told us she'd just turned 95. That means that she was born in 1914, just before the war, the first World War! What an unbelievable storehouse of knowledge and history must reside with this "young" lady there at Andalusia Manor. What changes must she have witnessed. How many presidents? How many wars? How many have come and gone on her watch?



Just who is this Lula Bell, you ask. Lula Bell is a 'grandmother' to me who I never really got to know because of life's circumstances. She's not biological, but adopted. Wife of my late grandfather, Herman Jones of Andalusia. Herman married Lula Bell after separating from my biological grandmother, and I never saw him again. I was very young and don't really remember seeing him much before the divorce. Yet, every Christmas we received a precious card from "Lula Bell and Herman" in Andalusia wishing us the best Christmas had to offer and sometimes accompanied by the invitiation to "Come see us!"

After Austin was born, Connie and I decided during our annual trip to the beach to detour through Andalusia and see where these Christmas cards were coming from. So, without much to go on, we began looking for my grandfather's house. Fortunately, Andalusia is a small, typical southern community where everyone knows everyone and is willing to help. It didn't take long to find our way to 108 Johnson Street, home of one Lula Bell Jones and her husband, my grandfather, Herman Jones. And so that year, we answered the invitation and surprised the Joneses of Andalusia. We only intended to stay a little while. You know, let the grandparents see the newest member of the family, exchange a few hugs and stories, and move on to the beach. Little did we know ...

Somehow, Lula Bell had got wind that we might come and so she prepared a room for us. Only God, himself, knows how long she'd had the room prepared, in hopes that it would soon host its intended visitors from the north. After a wonderful, hour or so visit, we announced that we'd should leave to continue our journey and Lula Bell insisted that it was late in the day and so we should spend the night. "You don't mean it!" she exclaimed at our intentions to leave. This was a phrase we'd heard Lula Bell say over and over as we told her stories of our lives to the north. "You don't mean it!" she would say at every pause. Grandfather didn't say much at all, his Parkinson's having pretty much taken control of his abilities. But you could see in his face the thrill of seeing his grandson again after so many years.

There was certainly no way we could turn down the offer to stay from such a sweet couple. And so we stayed. In a makeshift bedroom that doubled as a library. I remember looking through grandfather's modest library of western paperbacks, dominated by Clive Cussler novels. He must have read every western novel ever written. Of course, bed time was 6:00 pm, just after dinner, so we lay awake most of the night laughing at ourselves and wondering how we'd ended up here spending the night with people we had essentially never met in this tiny house at 108 Johnson Street, Andalusia, AL.



We slept on an old feather bed mattress laid on a hardwood floor. The windows were left open to invite in the moist evening air, in hopes of cooling the room enough to sleep. When morning came, we woke to the smell of every breakfast staple you could imagine. Lula Bell said she didn't know what we liked, so she cooked everything she had - no one knew anything about colesterol in those days and lard was the main ingredient of everything. So, we ate like royalty, or pigs depending on your viewpoint, until we couldn't possibly consume another grit. Lula Bell was literally cooking as we ate to replenish what was on the table. I wondered if she'd cooked their whole week's supply of food while we tried to keep up! After breakfast, we said our goodbyes, thanked Lula Bell for the hospitality, and went our way.



A few years later, the Christmas cards stopped coming and we learned that grandfather had been called home. So we came back to Andalusia one more time, this time to say goodbye to a grandfather we'd only recently said hello to. Lula Bell carried on with her life and we carried on with ours. Separately, I'm sad to say. Until today, when our paths crossed again. That trip through Andalusia years ago had identified an alternate path to the beach for us that works really well and reminds us of days gone by. So every year, we make the trek along AL 55 through Andalusia to Florala. I'm ashamed to say that we never looked up Lula Bell, always in a hurry to get to the beach.




In an interesting twist, we had decided to stop in Andalusia this year, not knowing how well Lia would travel. Furthermore, we spent the night in the same hotel we as when grandfather passed and that lead me to wonder about Lula Bell. So, we decided that we'd look up Lula Bell again and introduce Lily Grace and Lia Faith to the "young" lady who'd fed us so heartily years ago. We wondered if she was still living in Andalusia or if she'd been called home too. We wondered how many times she would say "You don't mean it!" if we were fortunate enough to see her. We wondered if she'd remember us. Through the grace of God, we were able to find Lula Bell and introduce her to Lily Grace and Lia Faith and reacquaint her with the 15 year old boy she'd fed one night years ago. Thank you God, and please forgive us for not visiting Lula Bell more often. She was a great blessing to us.




Oh, as our visit was drawing to a close, we told Lula Bell that we'd be celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary later this summer. Her reply? "You don't mean it!"

Love,
Jerry, Connie, Austin, Lily Grace, Lia Faith (and Lula Bell)
Green, Party of Five