On another work trip to the garden spots of the southern part of this great land, I stopped again in Brinkley on the quest to turn over my money to the Ivory Billed Woodpecker store. It was a Thursday, so I thought I was safe. It was once again closed – for a FOUR HOUR lunch!
I had given up, decided that the concept of commerce was lost on this town, when I saw a sign for the local beauty shop that advertised Ivory Billed souvenirs. I went in and SCORE! t-shirts, scarves, bags, you name it, they had slapped a woodpecker on it. I stocked up with a smile on my face.
I told the owner I was glad I saw her sign because I had tried several times to buy from the store down the road, but they were never open. I went on to question how the owners could operate that way.
The beautician smiled in that condescending way that Southern women do when they are about to put you in your place. She spoke in low tones to make sure I understood the gravity of what she was about to say when she leaned in to tell me that owner’s mother or grandmother (I can’t remember which) is very ill and she had been keeping odd hours because she is the primary caregiver for this woman.
I wanted to crawl under the floor. I felt so small and petty for complaining about t-shirts when this woman faced actual crisis in her life. I bought an extra scarf just to ease the guilt I felt for being such a jerk.
So if you’re ever in Brinkley, the beauty shop can help you out with woodpecker garb, and get you an Ivory Billed haircut for just $25. I make no further judgements about this town.