The man with his mother's smile came into the courtyard of Rippavilla today. I had only seen him once since he left for Vietnam a lifetime ago, and that was at mt grandmother's funeral in 1990 when i returned to my hometown of Dickson, Tennessee to bury my beloved Mama Byrn. Butch Hooper lived behind us in Dickson, he was my buddy Randy's big brother and by proxy he became my big brother too. We have been facebook friend for a while, but had not seen each other in twenty five years. When he spoke and smiled, I knew that a huge part of my early childhood had come home.
Butch's family was my family, his father, the world's greatest biscuit maker used to leave me a buttered biscuit on the back of the stove every morning, he knew I would ramble up the alley to the Hooper house every morning. In those days, kids could do that. Dickson was a great place to be a kid. I could eat a biscuit at Hooper's or I could walk up Church Street at the age of four and get a loaf of bread for my mom. Mom would stand on the front porch and watch me walk up the street to Mr Hood's store, where you could get a coke for a dime and a candy bar for a dime, and Mrs Hood would stand in the door way of the store and watch as I walked down the street home.
Somehow, I think Heaven may be laid out like that. At least I hope so. Thanks Butch for stopping by today and making my week. I called mom as soon as I finished my tour and sent her your love. God  bless you my friend.