Cepheus and Mamie by Kevin D. Burgess

Being of Germanic descent, I have no idea why German people would leave Ohio, a place similar to their home and migrate to Stuttgart, Arkansas. However, it seems a group did in the 1800's. There are only two seasons in the South Arkansas Delta, hot, miserable and humid, and less hot, miserable and humid. I have to assume the German people were trying to get away from something, someone or a group of someones. But they were resourceful people. The land there is a gooey layer of clay that would break the point of a plow. You might need dynamite to blow a hole to plant a tree and the tree will never grow more than five feet tall because the tree's roots can't penetrate the clay. I once was foolish enough to plant root crops in clay. I harvested a garden full of carrots, beets and turnips about four inches long and the width of a pencil. As most civil engineers know, one thing clay will do is hold water. The German people flooded the fields and planted rice and rice is the only thing that makes Stuttgart, Arkansas liveable.

If you were a bird and could fly away due east, maybe an hour or so, you could land in the Mississippi River town of Helena, Arkansas. Helena has the same climate as Stuttgart, only worse. The Union soldiers occupying the town in the Civil War referred to it as “Hell in Arkansas.” I believe Helena is a Greek name which really doesn't suit a city lying in the swamp lands of the Mississippi River bottom. However, when the city was founded in the early 1800's, very few people could read. I presume that would account for the limited number of choices. Helena lies directly across the river from the Mississippi Delta which birthed all of the great black blues men of the 30's, 40's and 50's. What the Mississippi Delta did not have was a 50,000 watt radio station, but Helena, Arkansas did. The blues men crossed the river to perform live on the King Biscuit Flour Hour. Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Willie Dixon and the like soon lit out for Chicago for what most people presume was a better opportunity. I think it was just for a cooler climate.

It must have been sentiment that led the German people to name the town Stuttgart. I have been to Stuttgart, Germany and Stuttgart, Arkansas and the only thing the two towns have in common are people living in houses. About the same thing that Paris, Texas and Paris, France have in common. Well in both Paris' they are big on football. But the French use a practical shaped round ball and in Paris, Texas they seem to have a machine that stretches a round ball into a geometric shape that defies all mathematics.

One thing you have when you have rice fields, is a lot of birds that like to eat rice, in particular ducks and Canadian Geese. Which is the other thing that makes Stuttgart, Arkansas notable. People come from all over the world in the less hot, miserable and humid season to hunt geese and ducks. They may even come from Stuttgart, Germany to hunt geese and ducks.

I had no interest in either rice or geese and ducks. What I did have an interest in was paying for my education so I could leave the cattle farm I grew up on in North Arkansas and do something besides mend fences and shovel cow shit. I was 14 years old before I realized the whole world didn't smell like cow shit. I was 18 when I left the farm in an old cattle truck and headed for Stuttgart to pick up a load of cattle. I met Cepheus at the cattle auction there.

For a black man in the south, Cepheus had done quite well for himself. He owned a quarter section of land outright. The bank had no part in it. Most of the 160 acres of land was planted in Cotton from which Cepheus drew a nice profit in good years. He had a small herd of cattle and grew about everything him and his wife, Mamie could eat, except for coffee and sugar. I stayed and watched the auction even though the cattle I was to take to Southern Missouri had already been purchased. I saw Cepheus at the auction. He didn't bid on any, but I saw several men walk over to speak to him. He was tall and thin in jeans and a western shirt, boots and a cowboy hat pushed back on his head. He moved quite well for a man in his 60's. I was loading my cattle after the auction when Cepheus walked back to speak to me. “You look like you a long way from home, young man.” He knew my name later on, but I don't think he ever referred to me as anything other than young man. “Yeah, I have to get these cows back to West Plains, Missouri about as fast as I can.” “You going to drive all night,” Cepheus said. “No, I think I need to rest a bit before I head North.” “There's a flophouse in town that will get you a room cheap.” “I'll probably just sleep in the truck. I am trying to save my money to pay for my school,” I replied. “Well, rather than do that, why don't you come out to my place and my old woman, Mamie will cook us some supper and you can have a decent bed to sleep in.” “That's right kind of you sir,” I replied.

I followed Cepheus' old pickup down a dirt road, out of the rice fields into cotton fields to a modest, but well kept old house on a low hill. I parked the bobtail truck at the bottom of the hill and left 6 unhappy cows as I walked up the hill to the house. Somewhere in the 100 yards, the scent in my nostrils turned from cow shit to fresh baked cornbread. Cepheus joined along the way and we walked in the door to meet Mamie. Mamie was a short, stout woman in a blue cotton print dress with big hips and breasts and a black moon face smiling out of the scarf covering her hair. “Did you bring me home another stray” Mamie said. “Yep, boy was going to spend the night in that old cattle truck and probably eat cheese and crackers.” “Well we can do better than that for him,” and Mamie wrapped her arms around me and pulled my head down between her big old titties. She had to pull pretty hard as I was 8 inches taller than her 5'2”. I turned my hips sideways so she wouldn't feel the solid hard-on that had already developed in my pants. I was 18 and this was the closest my head had been to a woman's breasts since I was two years old. Cepheus gave me a knowing wink and said “Mamie likes young folks. We never had none of our own. We is just a couple of old mules.”

“I've cooked up some ham and beans, collard greens and corn bread. And for dessert I have some blackberry cobbler.” “That sounds a lot better than crackers and cheese,” I replied. We sat down to one of the best suppers I can remember and then Cepheus and I retired to the front porch for man talk.

“It's too bad I couldn't give that old woman some babies. She sure would have been good with them. They would have helped on the farm also.” “She is a nice lady,” I said. “Yeah, she is and she sure likes young people trying to make something of themselves, like you. They is so many that just don't give a damn anymore. What you going to do when you get out of school?” ”Find a job where I don't have to smell cow shit all day.” “I can appreciate that,” Cepheus chuckled. “Why do you think there are so many people that don't give a damn any more, Cepheus. Well, young man, I will tell you a story.

“Those Canadian Geese that the hunters come for every winter, they really are from Canada. They spend the summer in Canada, eating wild rice, breeding and raising their young and then fly south to Stuttgart where it is a lot warmer and there is plenty of rice to eat. You know they fly in a V formation and there is one goose that leads them. Do you think that goose is the smartest, or the fightin'ness or the bossiest.” “I don't know, Cepheus.” “Well it ain't none of them. It's just a goose that knows North from South and knows when it is time to move on. Say there is flock of geese in Canada all summer and there is an old goose named Cain. Cain is a quiet goose. He just goes about his business, eats him some rice and maybe he has a mate and maybe he doesn't. Some of the other geese fight, argue, deceive or whatever to try and be the leader. But Cain just minds his own business. Sometime in September, Ole Cain will wake up at the dawn and sniff the air, rise up in the air and turn south and all the other geese will rise up and follow him. Some of the bossy ones squawk at him and the ones that think they should be leader might try to turn a different direction, but Ole Cain doesn't even squawk, he just keeps on flying south and the flock keeps on following. There'll be a young goose up close to Cain trying to figure out how Ole Cain knows where he is going. That young goose will watch him and figure out that it ain't that hard. Ole Cain just fly in a general direction south until he finds the big river, then he will fly with the flow of the river until he sees all the rice fields in Stuttgart. Then Cain and the flock will settle down into a rice field, have them a snack and a nap, and wait until Ole Cain, or that young goose if Ole Cain has passed, smells spring in the air and rises up and head north. You following me so far, young man.” “Well, I am following you Cepheus, I just don't know where you going.” “You a smart young man, I can tell,” Cepheus said.

“Say there is another flock of geese summering up in Canada and they have a goose like Cain, but his name is Able. Able just minds his own business while the usual goose nonsense goes on. One day in September, Ole Able wakes up smells the air and rise up and heads south. But Ole Able’s flock doesn't follow him. They follow the bossiest goose, or the fightin'ness goose or the goose that thinks he ought to be the leader. Able heads south and keeps on going, but the flock follow the one they think knows what he doing, and the one that they think knows what he doing flies north. What do you think will happen to those geese?” “They will freeze and die in the Arctic.” “I knew you was a smart young man, but do you know what the moral of my story is,” Cepheus queried. “Oh, I guess pick the right leader.” “That's a good guess, but no, it's not the moral. The moral is dumb geese don't survive evolution; and neither do dumb people. But we living in a time where you don't have to be smart or have some sense to survive. Just turn on your television and watch. Get my drift.” “Yeah, I got it all corralled now, Cepheus.”

I sat there quietly, absorbing such a profound statement by such a simple man. A wise man, but a simple man. “I think you better get some rest young man. You got a long trip tomorrow.” I didn't rest all that well that night, but I got up at 6:00 a.m. to the smell of bacon, eggs and biscuits that Mamie was cooking. I ate well and said goodbye and Mamie again hugged me and pulled my head between her breasts. This time it was more a feeling of comfort than eroticism. Cepheus winked at me when I turned around. One of Cepheus' old sayings is that a woman’s breasts were made for men, but every once in awhile babies get to use them. Cepheus followed me down to the truck, and as I was leaving said, “Don't let the world get to you, young man. There ain't nothing you can do about it anyhow.”

I visited with Cepheus and Mamie off and on over the years. I was working in South America when Cepheus passed. I didn't find out until a month later when I got back to the states. I had some time off so I thought I would go see Mamie. This time, I could fly into Little Rock and rent a sedan to drive to Stuttgart. Mamie met me on the front porch. She reached up and pulled my head down into her breasts. “You is the nicest young man I ever pulled down between my titties.” “You mean I am not the only one,” I replied. Mamie let out the deep laugh that only a black woman can summon, “No you weren't the only one, but you was the best.” We both had a good laugh. “Cepheus was a good man. We had a good life and I never could figure out how he could be so smart, never having gone but three or four years of school.” “School doesn't make you smart, Mamie,” I replied. “Will you take me down to the cemetery to see Cepheus' grave, and when we get back, I will cook you some supper.” “Sure, Mamie.”