Connecting the Dots

Cooter Jones was the sort of character in town everyone knew of, but no one really knew or wanted to know personally.

He was generally considered to be a slacker and he was difficult to miss with his frail 6’9” frame, crooked oversized nose, yellowed and missing top side teeth, dark black greasy unkempt straight hair, beard shaped like a “V” down to his chest dispersed with a few gray strands of hair, and hole-filled blue overalls stained with all sorts of nastiness. Heck, you could usually smell his foul odor when the wind blew from the right direction for what seemed a mile away.

He worked for old man Beard at the local tire shop doing the grunt work changing tires. It was a rather lucrative business in the early 1930’s because tires just didn’t last long on the rough brick roads in town, especially in this small Tennessee town.

He was mostly a loner. Old man Beard had a generous heart and felt pity on him. He allowed him to live in the shed out back with an old Army cot at the shop. After hours tended to get rather lonely except, he did have the company of a stray Rottweiler he named Justice that he kept fed and watered from time to time.

Despite his exterior appearance and general awkwardness, Cooter had a gentle soul. His reputation for being a general outcast wasn’t lost on him. He could feel the judgement of eyes staring down at him like daggers filled with laughter and disdain. He desperately wanted to change this perception that haunted him for the past 20 some odd years.

You see, ol’ Cooter dropped out of the 6^th grade soon after his parents died in a car accident on their way home from Grandpa Morris’ funeral. Cooter and his 4 siblings were told of this horrible news by the local sheriff and they were promptly taken as wards of the Giles County Orphanage. That meant being hauled all the way to Pulaski from their home in Krapp Spring to the northeast.

Being the oldest, Cooter couldn’t stand it. He was talked down to because he had difficulty grasping instructions. He just couldn’t pay attention long enough to know what was expected of him. He tried to rally his young brothers and sister to break out, but they wanted to have none of it. They were too young and afraid. One night, he instructed each to be quiet because he was going to escape. They obliged their older brother and out he fled.

He lived in hiding doing odd jobs here and there and would seek refuge in barns, culverts, old abandoned shacks, and such over the years. He stayed away from the public as a rule except for when he needed groceries. He didn’t want to get picked up by the law. That was the case until old man Beard befriended him and took pity.

To change his image, he knew he needed to get cleaned up and get some smarts so he could impress others when the opportunity arose for such nonsensical banter.

One humid summer day, he decided it was time. He took a shower with the garden hose scrubbing off as much filth as he could with a wooden-handled brush he used to clean tires with. He also used the degreaser as soap and much to his surprise, it worked quite well on his skin and hair.

He had been saving his meager wages and went to town. His clothes were still nasty as all get out, so he waited for the second-hand store to be void of patrons. He entered the building and kept his eyes down or on the clothes to avoid eye-contact with the shop keeper.

He finally came across a nice set of gently used tan-colored plaid pants and blue-yellow checkered shirt as well as a decent pair of black leather boots with minor scuffing and sole wear. He went to check out and while the shop keeper sorted and counted his change, Cooter spied a library across the street. It piqued his interest.

After leaving the store, he walked past the library and took note of the hours. It was a good thing because they only operated during his work hours except for Saturday mornings from 9am – Noon. But it was late afternoon already, so they were closed for the weekend. Old man Beard was lenient on Saturdays usually giving him time off to get his personal business done.

The following Saturday, Cooter headed back into town in his newly purchased used duds. He looked proud as a peacock but kept a rather low profile. He walked into the library and was amazed. Just a few were in checking out books. He didn’t know where to start but he didn’t have any identification so he couldn’t get a library card. He knew he’d be limited to reading in the library unless he stole the book, which he figured wouldn’t be in his best interest as tempting as it may be.

He walked up and down the bookshelves figuring out something might just jump out and captivate him. Down the C-F aisle, he found Mark Twain’s A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court. That sounded interesting as he remembers being fond of medieval stories of knights. He pulled the book out and as he did, the cover caught the edge of another book knocking it down off the shelf.

He bent down to pick it up and read the title Connecting the Dots: The Strange Mystery of Grandpa Morris. The blue cover appeared ominous, and two yellow circles side-by-side really stood out, so he put the Twain book back and decided to see what this book was all about. As he read the back of the cover, he made his way to a table in the back of the library and sat in the chair.

He opened the book and in the front flap was written in pencil, “To my darling wife, Clarice. With all my love, Jake.”

“That’s odd,” Cooter thought to himself, “that was mama and daddy’s names.”

He continued on to the next page which read “Chapter 1. Grandpa Morris’ Funeral” and it head an ink sketch of an old tin Lizzie with a man and woman sitting in the front seats. This certainly caused Cooter to pause and remember when his folks died. He never met his grandfather, but the name Morris stood out to him.

With his eyebrows furled, he was hesitant to turn the page. He looked around to survey his surroundings but saw no one. So, he slowly turned the page.

There were no words, pictures, or anything. He turned the page again and nothing. He flipped through the book and saw no ink on anymore pages.

In a curious desperation, he flipped straight to open the back flap. Upon opening, a very intense bright light flashed and filled the room temporarily blinding him and knocking him back to fall from the chair and landing with his head slamming onto the cold hard floor.

Cooter was knocked out for a few moments. As he came to, he looked around and wasn’t where he remembered he’d be. The bookshelves were missing and instead, he saw a variety of people sitting in a soda shop having discussions about this, that, and the other. Even odder is that no one seemed to notice he was on the floor and were just going about their business of talking and eating.

“What in tarnation?” he whispered to himself and examined the room.

Just then, a young woman turned around and their eyes met. As he sat back up to his seat, she walked towards him and asked, “Are you okay, handsome? I just happened to look around and you were sitting on the floor. You lose something?”

“Uh, no ma’am. Thank you. I… I found what I was looking for,” answered Cooter while pointing at his book.

The young woman nodded her head and went back to her dinner party. Cooter thought to himself, “Where am I? Did she just call me handsome?” He was flattered by the compliment and cracked a slight smile as he returned to his seat.

He stared at the front of the book trying to process what he just experienced. Then he looked around his new surroundings wondering how he arrived there. He thought to himself, “Did I lose my memory and wander over here? Was it magic? Am I going crazy?”

As he stared at the two yellow circles on the book cover, the circles appeared to enlarge, and he became increasingly mesmerized until he was frozen. At this point, all he could see was a very bright yellow color and everything in his periphery seemed to go away.

Seconds later, Cooter shook his head and came back to. He looked around and was no longer in the soda shop. He appeared to be in church in a pew by himself. He looked at the Bibles on the pew back in front of him and picked one up. He opened the flap and saw a print with the words Property of the Church of the Messiah.

He knew this church not as a member, but because he walked by it many times in his life. The Episcopalian church was well known in the region being around since the early 1800’s. It really stood out because of the red bricks not only on the walls but on the sidewalks as well.

But how did he end up in there he wondered? The entire congregation then stood up and started singing a hymn that sounded familiar.

But why? This was Saturday! Did he miss a whole day and it was now Sunday? He had so many questions and was increasingly confused.

He hadn’t been to a church since his parents died but there was no mistaking Bringing in the Sheaves. He caught himself singing the words at a very low volume as it came out naturally though he was still surveying his surroundings with thoughts and questions dominating his mind.

He increasingly felt at ease with comfort and familiarity. He put the book down and enjoyed the remainder of the service. He especially enjoyed the ending when the pastor asked everyone to shake hands and bid each other a beautiful week ahead. It felt so good to feel other warm hands and warm smiles.

At the conclusion of the services, Cooter left the church and walked down the tree-lined street past stately mansions and Martin Methodist College. He found a beautiful tree on the warm summer afternoon and decided to sit underneath it while watching folk wearing their Sunday best walking by waving while smiling to him.

He felt more joy than he could remember since before the death of his parents. He glanced down at the book and decided to avoid looking at it again prolonged as he feared he might black out again and something bad could happen. He picked the book up and carried it back to his cot at the tire shop and placed it carefully underneath the pillow.

He then walked around that afternoon enjoying the beautiful blue skies and gentle warm breeze until the evening darkened the skies.

The days passed during the week and before he knew it, next Saturday rolled back around.

He dressed up in his good clothes, placed the book in a paper sack and walked back to the library. He sat at the table he was at the week before and opened the sack removing the book. He avoided looking at it and put it back on the shelf next to the Mark Twain book he saw before. He wanted to make sure the librarian didn’t notice it went missing and thought of him as a common book thief.

He then took A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and started to read it at the table. It was a good read, so he stayed all morning getting through a few chapters before it was closing time. He dog-eared the page he finished and placed the book back on the shelf.

On Monday, he asked old man Beard how he could get an ID so he could get a library card. Old man Beard said he would go with him to the county courthouse in town and help him figure it out. He’d vouch for him and allow him to use his business as his residence address. The went and were able to get everything figured out. The clerk was sympathetic to Cooter’s story and issued him the ID. With a big smile, Cooter thanked her, and they left.

Old man Beard gave him permission to go to the library to get his library card to make it official. With his first checkout, he left with A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court and continued to read it each evening after work.

After he finished it, he went back to the library and found another novel to bring back and his literary appetite increased over time. It was fulfilling. He decided after a few more weeks that it was time for his own place. He hardly spent what little money he made but it accrued enough to afford a garage apartment.

Cooter realized his happiness was tied to his newfound appearance and independence. Things were changing and for the better.

He often wondered if that first book he picked up and caused him to black out was a lucky charm for him.

But he didn’t dare look for it again. Things were getting better and he wanted it to stay that way.

No more taking chances. Things were looking up.

And life was good.