I recently drove through Yazoo City, Mississippi, and immediately had flashbacks of growing up on the farm on a country gravel road, Rural Route 3, in Keokuk, Iowa.
One night, my family was watching a show on the console television, and something flashed on the screen that my dad found inappropriate for kids to watch. In many homes, parents would just turn the channel. But in our home, my dad quietly got up out of his recliner, walked over to the wall, unplugged the television, picked it up off the floor, hauled it outside and threw it in the back of his truck for a trip to the dump. He came back inside and said, “I am not going to have stuff like that in my house!” and that was the end of our television days.
With no television to entertain us in the evenings, we filled our nights with checkers, chess, board games, card games, reading books and listening to Jerry Clower on eight-track and cassette tapes.
The late comedian grew up in Liberty, Mississippi, and joined the Navy right out of high school, during World War II. After the Navy, he attended Mississippi State University, studied agriculture and became a seed salesman and later a fertilizer salesman in Yazoo City. As part of his sales pitch, Jerry would tell funny tales about his childhood days in rural Mississippi, and his reputation as a great storyteller grew. One day, someone offered to record an album of his stories and his career as a stand-up comedian and storyteller was launched.
Jerry, who earned the nickname, “The Mouth of Mississippi,” often made mention of Yazoo City in his routines. One of his albums was titled, “From Yazoo City — Mississippi Talkin’.” It was while I was driving through Yazoo City that memories of sitting in our family room listening to Jerry came to mind and brought a big smile to my face.
I recalled his tales about raccoon hunting in the South and the Ledbetter family with Uncle Versie, Ardell, Burnell, Lynell, Odell, Udell, Marcell, Claude, Newgene and Clovis. On his album “Ain’t God Good,” he talks of growing up without a dad until age 12, when his mom married Elliott Moore who became his stepfather and changed his life. I have an identical childhood story, as my stepdad — who will always just be dad to me — also changed my life. He was a prolific wood cutter, so the stories of Marcell and his “Puckwood Truck” always hit very close to home. Jerry would always talk about his family being poor, and our family was poor as well. We might not have been as poor as the Ledbetters, but we were pretty darn close.
All those hours of listening to Jerry was like attending a storytelling academy. It taught me that even the simplest things in life, if told with a bit of flair, can bring people together and spread joy to everyone within earshot. Jerry’s stories brought levity to our home and taught me how to spin a tale and fill a room with laughter. I have been told that I can take very complex subjects and make them easy to understand. I think I can thank Jerry for that.
Years ago, I was a midlevel manager at a fancy dinner with all the company senior leaders in attendance. During the meal, someone asked me to tell a story about growing up on the farm in Iowa, and I proceeded to do my best Jerry imitation and tell my story in his way.
People laughed, and others drifted over, pulling up chairs to listen and laugh. The stories continued, and the laughter intensified until some were wiping their eyes and holding their stomachs. From my perspective, it was a smashingly fun evening and a great time. However, the next day, I received an email requesting me to report to my supervisor’s office, where I was summarily chastised and told to tone it down at company dinners. Was the counseling effective? No, it was not. Dinners are still full of stories, laughter, smiles and great connections with all those at the table.
Too often when I go out to eat these days, I look around
the restaurant and see tables full of people on their phones, scrolling and looking for connection. Sometimes entire families or groups of people sit silently, all staring into the abyss of their smartphones, all attempting to connect to the world on social media while being disconnected from those closest to them.
I thought that my life was miserable as a kid with no television. However, these days as a dad and grandpa, I see it differently. I understand just how transformational that night was in my life, the night that dad unplugged our television and forced us to connect as a family, and not let the outside world dictate what was important to us.
Thanksgiving is right around the corner — what an opportunity to connect with family and friends. An opportunity to put smartphones away, tell stories, share memories, learn what is going on in each other’s lives, and to truly connect with those who are the closest to you. Make the people sitting around your Thanksgiving table the priority. And if you aren’t good at telling stories, find some old Jerry Clower clips (scan the QR code above to listen), and let “The Mouth of Mississippi” bring some joy and laughter to your holiday.
Laughter really is the best medicine, and I bet that a little Clower Power will get everyone talking and sharing stories of their own.