#beech island

I’ve been listening to James Loewen‘s Lies Across America: What Our Historic Sites Get Wrong using my public library’s subscription to Hoopla Digital. Listening to it, I wonder how Professor Loewen, who passed in 2021, ever slept at night knowing the scale of injustice society perpetuated and the mountain of indifference society placed in the path of restoration of rights and acknowledgement of…

From Middle School to High School, I saw Zannie more often than not. I always liked him. I don't say that now because it may be a classy thing to say. I say that now because, well, I always liked him. As did everyone. Always happy that guy. Always polite that guy. Always saying hello and goodbye. It was his way. But I got to know Zannie less from the breezeways and hallways and more from the diamond. Through a large chunk of my life, I played against Zannie [Jackson v Beech Island] and then alongside Zannie [Silver Bluff v The World]. Same story. Always happy. Always polite. Always saying hello and goodbye. A consistent fellow. Although I primarily stuck to baseball, Zannie was a natural athlete, so naturally he played many a sport and played them well. Zannie Worrell; the kind of guy who would cut up and break some rules, but would always take the time to say yes and no ma'am to my mother [My mom loved his name: pronounced something like zany]. After the class of 99 went our separate ways, I lost track of a lot of alumni. But as college continued, my old mate Jason Hyer and I would end up playing summer ball for a farm league. And before you knew it, it was Jackson v Beech Island once again. If I recall, I struck out Zannie during the first at-bat but then he tripled the next, which makes him the winner in that contest. But it was Zannie, so there was no gloating. No hard feelings. And I can't even remember who won the damned game.

I also can't remember the last time I saw Zannie. It was several years ago, before I came to China. But he was still the same; the same guy I liked. He might have had a beard. He might not have. But as time grew older, and we grew with it, Zannie gained a family; he became a small business owner. He settled within his life. Not bothering anyone. Just enhancing the day of the next person who walked into his Beech Island Barbershop.

Then there's this. A robbery. A selfish act. A tragic result. This guy I knew, Zannie Worrell, lost his life, needlessly, on a Saturday. I don't know the full story. Why he was shot. If he fought back. I don't know these things. But what I am willing to guess is that on that day, Zannie had been what he had been all along. Always happy. Always polite. Saying hello. And sadly, on that day, saying goodbye. But when it's all said and done, I believe that Zannie had more to offer this world then the two men who tried to take it from him. He was a good one. A gent. My thoughts and prayers go out to his friends and family. Rest in peace Mr. Zannie Worrell. You will be are missed.