Strong Women and Lightning Bugs
A Magical Night of Catfish and Fireflies
My life is filled with strong women. I’m willing to bet that most everyone can say the same thing — if they are willing to look. There is a reason why so many acting students are drawn to the monologue from Steel Magnolias written by Robert Harling where M’Lynn (played by Sally Field in the 1989 movie) describes sitting by her daughter’s bed while she was dying.
At that point I panicked. I was very afraid that I would not survive the next few minutes while they turned off the machines. Drum couldn’t take it. He left. Jackson couldn’t take it. He left. It struck me as amusing. Men are supposed to be made of steel or something. But I could not leave. I just sat there . . . holding Shelby’s hand while the sounds got softer and the beeps got farther apart until all was quiet. There was no noise, no tremble . . . just peace. I realized as a woman how lucky I was. I was there when this wonderful person drifted into my world and I was there when she drifted out. It was the most precious moment of my life thus far.
I know a lot of women who seem soft around the edges but are strong as steel. I’m thankful for that. There are exactly two of these women that I call “mentor.” One was Josie. She died several years ago.
Josie was tall and severe in looks and in communication. Mentor — because she is still living and I’m certain that millions of people will end up reading this, I’ll protect her identity as best I can (Hey Anne Lamott!) — Mentor is shorter and softer in looks and in the way she speaks. In fact, if I’m at a dinner table with her I have to lean way in to be sure I can hear the words she says. Josie guffawed. When Mentor laughs, she does so quietly. She is the epitome of the “genteel Southern lady.” When something happens to make her laugh out loudly, everyone around knows that she has truly been tickled by something — often the antics of a Dear Friend. Josie cussed like a sailor. Mentor rarely utters anything stronger than “damn.” Her favorite exclamation is “Aw shoot!” Josie made sure you knew her opinion on the matter right away. Mentor teases out your own opinions through hours of conversation. Josie did not have the patience for all that shit. Mentor could sit and talk for 8 hours straight and be surprised when the manager wants to close the restaurant. My two mentors could not have been more different from one another. They were best friends.
I don’t know how I got lucky enough to know them both. I’m not the only person who feels this way. Anyone who attended the university that I attended during a certain period of years feels the same way. There are one or two, here and there, who could not stand one or the other of these women. Of course, there are going to be students who don’t get along with everyone. It is almost unheard of, though, for someone to have attended their department while the two of them were running things (not officially, but you know) and not have liked either one of them. Most of us loved them both. But, what was so amazing is the ways in which they worked together- a team, partners -to make sure that each student had the kind of “care and feeding” they needed.
Mentor and I have had so many wonderful moments that it would take an entire book to write about just my relationship with her. Because of her, I have seen The Grand Tetons and The Great Salt Lake. I have seen Paris and Edinburgh, Yellowstone, Oxford, MS, and all the places in between. I have seen all this and more because Mentor was willing to share her life with me.
This week I was reminded of a magical night we experienced. It wasn’t in Paris, France or on a trail in The Grand Tetons. I had invited her to come visit the small town where I was living at the time. Watching the movie Black Widow brought the memory back.
Young Yelena says, “Look! Forest Stars!”
Her mother laughs and says, “Yeah. You know what? Those are actually part of the Lampyridae family. And the glow, the glow that you see, that comes from a chemical reaction called… bioluminescence.”
Later in the movie, the end, in fact, the camera fades back and reveals hundreds of Fireflies lighting up the trees and the night sky. This made me remember that night with Mentor.
“You have got to experience this restaurant! It is called Hagy’s Catfish Hotel and has been there since the 1930’s. The family often had cookouts and friends would end up having to stay the night because they ate and drank too much. They would leave their boats docked overnight after eating the catfish caught and cooked right there.
I knew she would love it. Mentor loves a good story. And, she loves the experience of eating in a restaurant. This one isn’t anything fancy, but it has a great story and the food is good too.
My dad liked to say this about it,
“Have you been to the Catfish Hotel?
You should see those tiny little beds they have.”
The restaurant sits on the Tennessee River. When it began, it was just a resting stop for fishermen and others traveling the river. That was the only way to get there. I haven’t been there in years, but as far as I know there is still only “one road in and one road out” — the same road. That road is probably only a mile long. It feels longer because it is one of those windy roads through the woods. There is only one place the road goes and that is to Hagy’s Catfish Hotel.
Mentor and I drove out to the restaurant and filled up on yummy catfish and hushpuppies. It had gotten dark while we were eating. We got back in the car and started down the one road out to the main highway to go home. Mentor was talking. I glanced over at her. We were the only car on the road at the moment. When I looked at her, over her shoulder I could see out the passenger-side window. I stopped the car.
“Oh, is something wrong?” she asked.
“YOU HAVE TO LOOK AT THIS.”
Lightning bugs. Lightning BUGS. LIGHTNING BUGS!
I have never seen so many Lightning Bugs in one place before. I had never seen them light up the way they were either. It felt like we had fallen into a magical storybook and were getting to experience something that doesn’t really happen.
Now I know it does happen. You may have seen a story about it on CBS Sunday Morning or heard a story on NPR about Elkmont in The Great Smoky Mountains that is famous for its Fireflies. They are called Synchronous Fireflies because of the ways in which they light in patterns.
We were a long way from the Smokies, but I believe Mentor and I got to see our own personal showing of these Fireflies too. We just sat there, in the car, watching in awe at millions upon millions of Lightning Bugs lighting up the branches of the trees through which they were flying.
I was on a Zoom call with Mentor today. She mentioned this experience to me. There are things that she is forgetting these days — primarily just a word here and there, so she couldn’t bring up where we were when it happened, but the memory of the magical moment was clear.
“I was just thinking about that this week!” I said. And, we marveled again at what a special gift we had been given that night. The dinner was good, but the show was better.
