Strange Mr. Paisley

When Mr. Amos Paisley came to Stoneybrook Ridge, Missouri, he had no idea what he was in for. Stoneybrook Ridge is located on the west side of the Mississippi river in the Ozark Hills where many still hold grudges from over a hundred years ago during the war. When he arrived, there was a feud boiling over again between the Garris and McDaniel families over a marriage proposal gone sour between Jenny Garris and Tommy Joe McDaniel.  Jenny had just turned seventeen, which is old by local marriage standards while Tommy had just returned home from a hitch in the army overseas.

Amos Paisley claimed to be a minister of the Church of the Earthly Saints, but no one ever heard of such a church which made him quite suspicious when he would take his daily walk down main street. He was always friendly and tipped his bowler hat to any lady he happened to pass on his daily journey.  Still there was something about him that made him strange, Strange Mr. Paisley is what he was known as.  There was no clear reason why this was so other than small rural towns tend to regard outsiders with suspicion and disdain.

His church was held in a small lea by the river.  He would take new members into the muddy water and dunk them whole into the water in the name of Jesus. If he only knew what had been tossed into the river, he might have reconsidered his practice.  No one ever complained, though.

In Naddy's Hair Salon, the women would gossip non-stop about that Strange Mr. Paisley.  Some of them even suggesting he was a visitor from another planet.  Some of them we're known to have overactive imaginations, so I was never surprised when I heard their outrageous claims.  Of course, I would always hear it second hand from my wife's beautiful face after having her hair and nails done at Naddy's.

"Sam, you ain't never gonna believe what I heard when I was having my hair dried." She would become so animated, waving her hands all around as she spoke.

"What did ya hear, Betty?" I tried to act interested.

Her story would always be punctuated with incredible details and flourish of imagination that would make a writer feel inadequate.  

Now I owned a garage not far from Neddy's and I would always catch the latest gossip as I sat in my chair on the sidewalk waiting for customers to stroll in.  Jasper Muldoon would be seated next to me.  He was my assistant who was about as sharp as a box of rocks, but when it came to car engines, he was like another Einstein.  

"What do you make of Amos Paisley?" I asked as the day got hotter.

"Reverend Paisley?" He sniffed, "He's alright."

"Folks seem to gossip a lot about him." I put a pinch of chew between my cheek and gums, "I heard he's on the lam."

"I dunno." He shrugged and pushed his stained baseball cap to the back of his head to cover his growing bald spot, "I heard he murdered his wife."

"He what?" I nearly swallowed my plug.

"Just some folks talking." He shrugged his shoulders, which reminded me of big angel wings under his stained t-shirt.

"Do you think he done it?" I asked.

"Anyone is capable if they get pushed enough." He sniffed.

"I suppose." And that was that.

We had the Gridley's, Wayne and Winnie over for dinner one night when Winnie and Betty began talking about Mr. Paisley and his former wife who vanished.  With their heads pressed together, I could hear them whispering about his murdered wife.  Wayne and I sat on the back porch drinking beer.

"Wayne, what is your take on this new reverend?"  I asked taking a sip of beer.  We lived in a double wide trailer for thirty years in a yard with a nice view of the river.  It was early summer and the lightning bugs were out.

"He's a strange one for sure, but he seems harmless as far as I know." He leaned back in his chair, putting his hand behind his head. "I reckon he comes from a place where folks are odd."

Wayne was born and raised in the area and did not have much of a worldly view.  There was Stoneybrook Ridge and the rest was just wilderness that he had no desire to explore.  

"Someone said he was from New York City." I said with a shrug.

"Well, that would explain it." He nodded as he took another sip of his beer.

I am not in favor of gossip, but the gossip surrounding our newest citizen seemed like conversational quick sand as once it got started there was no escaping it.  As we ate dinner, Winnie went over the latest gossip about Amos Paisley from his congregation to his absent wife while we feasted on beef stew.

I decided it was time to go see Reverend Paisley for myself to put an end to all the gossip that shrouded him like a cloud.  

"Sam Edgeman, as I live and breathe." He greeted me with his hand extended for a handshake.

"Reverend Paisley, it's good to meet you." I shook his hand firmly.

"Are you ready to join my flock?" He asked, tilting his long head to one side.

"No, no, fraid not." I coughed into my hand.

"Shame." He put his hands on his hips.  Until I was standing in front of him, I had never noticed how tall and lanky he was.  Some of his joints didn't seem to fit together in the right places and his smile seemed a bit wider than it should've been, but it was not polite to notice these things outright. "I have a baptism in an hour.  You are welcome to stay and witness if you'd like."

"Thank you for the offer and all, but I have to be getting on to supper." I lied since supper would not be ready for a while.

"I understand." He nodded. 

"So what exactly is this Church of Earthly Saints that you are pastor of?" I buried my hands in my overall pockets.

"Shall I invite you to my next service?" He asked.

It would be rude to turn down a second invitation.  I took a deep breath and said, "I think that would be fine."

"Look forward to seeing you this Sunday." He seized my hand for a parting handshake.

"You really going?" Jasper asked as he tightened an engine bolt. "Peggy, my wife, told me they have satanic rites by the river."

"Are you serious?" I laughed out loud.

“I’d be watching my back if I were you.” Jasper shook a long finger at me as a warning.  

I did not heed the warning and Sunday morning found me down by the riverside near the bulrushes and the reeds where the congregation appeared in gowns of white like angels called down from the heavens.  Each greeted me with a nod of acknowledgment and they invited me to sit beneath the shade of the  spreading oak tree sheltered from the warm early morning sun. There was a steady “uhm” as the gowned angels folded their hands and produced the soothing sound of their morning hymn.  

Now I’m here to tell you, Stoneybrook Ridge is a small hamlet tucked in a bend on the Old Man River and everybody knows everybody else, but from his flock, I did not recognize a single person in Reverend Paisley’s congregation.  Not a one.  

I felt as though I was surrounded by strangers like when I went to New York City and got on a subway.  Folks of all kinds of afflictions sat near me.  Some talked to people who weren’t even there or made comments that seemed rude or out of place.  I swore I would never get on the subway again and was grateful when I was finally on my way home.  I felt like a fish out of water while I was visiting my uncle in that fishbowl of a city.  

My mind drifted as Reverend Paisley spoke of the Promised Land.

“Hey there Sam.” My Uncle Rayford Reddrick greeted me at LaGuardia as I got my bags.

“Uncle Ray, I am so glad I finally made it.” I shook his hand, but he insisted on a hug. “Glad ya made it, kid.”  

He was my mother’s sister after all and I had just graduated from high school.  Uncle Ray was one of our family success stories.  He had managed to make it out of Stoneybrook Ridge and landed a job as an executive assistant with a major advertising firm.  I remember at the time it seemed like such a big deal, but I was quick to learn Uncle Rayford was not the big time success my mother made him out to be.  He still had some of that Ozark accent, but he sounded like he fit in with all the rest of the strangers who were freaking me out.  

He took me to a Yankees game, but I spent most of the time listening to the grumbling from the fans that surrounded us in the nosebleed section where we were seated.  I learned new vocabulary for lousy or bum that weren’t very nice, but Uncle Ray told me it was all part of being a New Yorker. 

We ate at a street vendor hot dog stand and I was sick for days.

The wind blew cold through the skyscrapers even though it was early summer.  

The smell of burning diesel made me nauseous.

The Hudson River had more stuff floating in it than the river to the east of Stoneybrook Ridge. 

The crowded streets made him claustrophobic.

Rapid transit was filled with unhygienic and schizophrenic people.

My memory of that trip was filled with horror and disgust.

"All rise in His name." Reverend Paisley commanded and the entire congregation came to their feet. Not a single one of them had shoes on their feet except me. They all began humming in that low voice, "Ahhhuuummmm!"

I did not know what to do so I joined in.

"We all know where we are headed.  Let us all join hands!" He announced over the drone of their humming. 

I felt a cold hand slide into mine. 

I glanced over and a man was holding my hand smiling at me.

"My name is Edwin." His toothy smile unnerved me a bit.

"My name is Sam." I did not wish to be rude, "Where are you from Edwin?" 

A strange expression crossed his face.

"Did I say something wrong?" I asked as he let go of my hand.

"That is a touchy question, Mr. Edgewood." Reverend Paisley explained in a low voice.

"No, it's not." I shook my head and raised my hands.

"There are some reservations when it comes to a domicidal discussion." He put his hand on my shoulder. 

I pulled away, still bewildered over the sensitivity of a friendly neighborly conversation. "Everybody knows everybody else in these parts, but I have to be honest with you, Reverend Paisley, these folks are complete strangers."

"Didn't Jesus welcome his enemies?" He put his hand on my shoulder again.

"I knew this was a mistake, Reverend Paisley." Edwin snapped.

"Let us all just take a breath." He held out his hand preventing Edwin from assaulting me or at least that is what he seemed he wanted to do.

I was creeped out for a moment.

"This town is nothing but gossipers." Edwin was agitated. "We are not welcome here."

"Mr. Edgewood is not like the rest." He was speaking to Edwin, but being referred to in the third person as I stood there was a very strange experience for me. 

"You remember what happened last summer." Edwin crossed his arms.

"Yes, yes those people were not ready to accept you." Reverend Paisley explained calmly.

"And what makes you think these people are any different?" He glanced at me with a look that sent a chill up my spine.

"We must find a place." Reverend Paisley patted Edwin on the back.

"You promised this time would be different." Edwin groaned and in that moment I felt sorry for him.  He stood there so sad and dejected.  He looked just like my Uncle Rayford when he waved goodbye to me at the airport when I left, never to return.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open like a fish on a hook, not knowing what to say.

You know the roots of gossip begin with some event that is not typical of an everyday occurrence.  There was a strong feeling coming up from the pit of my stomach. It was not a welcome feeling in the least.

"I think perhaps, you would be better off if you departed." Reverend Paisley looked directly into my eyes and it felt as if he had a grip on my heart.  His grip tightened and I felt that leaving was my best option. 

Slowly, I backed away.

"There may come a day, Mr. Edgewood when we will be able to sit down and break bread together." He waved to me, but instead of leaving, I hid out in the thick undergrowth of a copse of trees.  From my vantage point, I could see what was taking place among the strange flock Reverend Paisley had assembled.

What I witnessed, I have trouble putting into words, but in the general interest of the truth, I will do my best.

There was a hum.  

It wasn't like the droning chant from before.  No, this seemed to produce a strange energy.  It was like a wave of energy flowed over them like a wave from the river.

Everyone who lives along the banks of the Mississippi, knows about how catfish can walk out of the water and sometimes be found on the branches of trees and bushes.  

What I saw was this transformation of the congregation from human form into the siluriformes they had come from.  Walking to the sloshing banks of the river, one by one, they resumed their form, flopping in the mud until they were reunited to their home in the river.  As soon as the water washed over them, they would swim away and disappear.

I watched Reverend Paisley, still wearing his robes, look in all directions before disappearing into the river like the rest of his congregation.  I waited several minutes before I stepped out of where I had concealed myself and walked up to the shore.  There were human footprints in the mud, but two feet from the water the footprints were no longer there.  Only the reverend's robes remained partially submerged in the muddy water.

I was all alone in the clearing with only a gentle breeze to keep me company.

Plenty of folks have asked me whatever became of Reverend Paisley, but I always answer them with a shrug of my shoulders.

It is the easiest way. It is the best way for all concerned, that much I am sure of.