"WHY CANT YOU? . . .”

"You're right, sir."

“TO ERR IS HUMAN . . . TO FORGIVE, DIVINE . . .”

"Yes sir."

“THERE IS NO RESURRECTION FOR BODIES GNAWED BY THE MAGGOTS OF SIN . . . “

"No sir."

"BUT GOD CAN LIFT YOU UP . . .”

"Yes He can,”

"OH! GOD IS GOOD . . ."

"Yes sir."

"OH! HOW GOOD IS OUR GOD . . .”

"You’re right, sir."

"WHAT A FRIEND WE HAVE IN JESUS . . .”

"Oh yes sir."

"YOU CAN BE BAPTIZED, CIRCUMCISED, GALVANIZED, AND SIMONIZED, BUT IT DONT MEAN A THING IF YOU AINT A CITIZEN OF GLORY . . .”

"No sir."

“THANK YOU, JESUS! THANK YOU, JESUS! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY! WE PRAISE YOUR NAME THIS MORNING AND THANK YOU, JESUS! HALLELUIAH! HALLELUIAH JESUS!"

When he had finished, the whole church exploded in "Amens!" and "Halleluiahs!" and the choir started again, until the room began to throb with . . .

"ARE YOU WASHED IN THE BLOOD . . . THE SOUL- CLEANSING BLOOD OF THE LAMB . . . OH TELL ME, SWEET CHILDREN . . . ARE YOU WASHED IN THE BLOOD …”

Evelyn had never been a religious person, but this day she was lifted from her seat and rose high above the fear that had been holding her down.

She felt her heart open and fill with the pure wonder of being alive and making it through.

She floated up to the altar, where a white Jesus, wan and thin, wearing a crown of thorns, looked down from the crucifix at her and said, "Forgive them, my child, they know not what they do . . .”

Mrs. Threadgoode had been right. She had taken her troubles to the Lord, and she had been relieved of them.

Evelyn took a deep breath and the heavy burden of resentment and hate released itself into thin air, taking Towanda along with them. She was free! And in that moment she forgave the boy at the supermarket, her mother's doctor, and the girls in the parking lot . . . and she forgave herself. She was free. Free; just like these people here today, who had come through all that suffering and had not let hate and fear kill their spirit of love.

At which point Reverend Portor called for the congregation to shake hands with their neighbors. The beautiful young woman sitting next to her shook her hand and said, "God bless you." Evelyn squeezed the woman's hand and said, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

As she left the church, she turned at the door and looked back one last time. Maybe she had come today hoping she could find out what it was like to be black. Now she realized she could never know, any more than her friends here could know what it felt like to be white. She knew she would never come back. This was their place. But for the first time in her life, she had felt joy. Real joy. It had been joy that she had seen in Mrs. Threadgoode's eyes, but she hadn't recognized it at the time. She knew that she might never feel it again. But she had felt it once, and now she would never forget the sensation as long as she lived. It would have been wonderful if she could have told everyone in the church how much that day had meant to her.

It would have been wonderful, too, if Evelyn had known that the young woman who shook her hand had been the eldest daughter of Jasper Peavey, pullman porter, who, like herself, had made it through.

JUNE 1, 1950

Railroad Employee of the Month

“His only aim is to see people happy and to make their trip more pleasant. Please don't overlook this outstanding railroad man when passing out the pats on the back to the Railroad Man of the Month."

That's how Silver Crescent passenger Cecil Laney described pullman porter Jasper Q. Peavey.

This genial porter has been receiving commendations since he started working for the railways at age 17, as a red-cap at the Terminal station in Birmingham, Alabama. Since then, he has been cook, freight trucker, station porter, dining car waiter, parlor car porter, and was promoted to pullman porter in 1935. He became president of the Birmingham branch of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters in 1947.

Mr. Laney goes on to say, "Jasper's little courtesies begin the minute a passenger boards the train. He makes a special effort to see that all the passengers have their luggage properly boarded, and through the trip, he looks for those little unexpected things he can do to make the ride more comfortable, with his big, always-present smile and happy laugh.

"A few minutes before arrival at the station, he always announces, 'In about five minutes we will be arriving at . . . If I can help you with your baggage, it will be a pleasure to do so.'

'To us, he is a trusted friend, an attentive host, a watchful guardian, a dispenser of comforts, and a doer of favors. He chaperones the children and helps mothers in distress; he is most courteous, helpful and efficient, for which the passengers are deeply grateful. It is unusual to find such a man in the times through we which we are now passing."

Jasper is a lay pastor at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, and is the father of four daughters: Two of them are teachers, one of them is studying to be a nurse, and the youngest is planning to go to New York and study music.

Congratulations to Jasper Q. Peavey, our Outstanding Railroad Employee of the Month.

AUGUST 27, 1955

Railroad Yard Closing

Of course, we are all so sad to hear that the railroad yard is closing. Now that we have lost most of our trains, we seem to be losing a lot of our old friends, who are moving on to other places. We can only hope that the trains will start running again. It will not seem right with just a few trains passing through.

Grady Kilgore, retired official of L N Railroad, says that the country cannot exist without its trains, and that it is just a matter of time before the government realizes it. I say the L N Co. will come to its senses and put them back on the line soon.

Georgia Pacific Seaboard, and now L N. Only Southern Railroad has held out . . . it seems they just don't want passengers anymore.

Also, we hear that the cafe may be closing. Idgie says that her business is way down.

By the way—

My other half claims he has had the eight-day pneumonia for ten days . . . Men!

. . . Dot Weems . . .

PULLMAN CAR NO.16

DECEMBER 23, 1958

Jasper Peavey sat up all through the quiet night while the train glided through the snow-laden landscape and the moon sparkled on the passing fields of white.

It was freezing outside the ice-cold window, but warm and cozy inside the car. This was when he felt safest, and at ease. No more smiling for the day . . . just quiet.

The red and green railroad crossing lights slid by at each stop, and early in the dawn, the lights began to come on, one by one, in the small towns.

He was a month away from retiring, with a nice pension, from the Southern Railroad. Jasper had come to Birmingham a year later than his brother Artis, and although they were twins and both classified as Negro under the law, they had lived two entirely different lives. Jasper had loved his brother, but hardly ever saw him. Artis had quickly found a place among the fast, racy set down on 4th Avenue North, where the jazz was hot and dice rolled night and day. Jasper had taken up residence at a Christian boardinghouse four blocks away and had attended church at the 16th Street Baptist Church the first Sunday he was in Birmingham. It was there that Miss Blanch Maybury had caught the eye of and took a shine to this creamy boy with his mother's freckles. Blanch was the only daughter of Mr. Charles Maybury, a respected citizen, well-known educator, and principal of the Negro high school, so it was through her that Jasper was automatically admitted to the exclusive, upper-middle-class black society.