“The Crack of Dawn!” I used to
think that was an expression that meant the night was over and the dawn was
coming. That is until I was invited by two storytellers that lived in the
mountains of Asheville. They were hosting their first annual storytelling event
up there and we were invited to come up. I was excited and was ready to go! I, Sparkle,
Mardia along with two drummers – Marty and Hashem loaded up the car and up to
the mountains we went. When we got there we dropped our things at the bed and
breakfast were going to be staying at and then went to the park to join the
storytellers. They were catching fish to eat for their dinner. I wasn’t into
that and wondered if there was another way to get my fish. There was, I batted
my eyes at one mountain man and he gave me two nice fish, he cleaned them and filleted
them as well. The only seasoning on the table was salt, pepper and there was no
cornmeal. After watching the fish turn golden brown and float to the top I
removed them from the hot oil and dropped in my cute little purple and red
potatoes. I had never seen a potato that was purple and red on the inside.
After eating, we rode back to town and got us some real food from a diner that
served home cooking. I had the chicken fried steak with gravy, mashed potatoes
and fried green tomatoes.
The storytelling event was the
next day and we had a ball. There was a hayride thingy and more storytelling
out in this wooded area. I was more concerned about rattlesnakes and those big
behind mosquitoes than anything. We were invited to walk across a hanging
bridge. It was dark out and I couldn’t even see the bridge but I was scared! I
could hear the rushing water below and I knew I couldn’t swim…no, I was not
walking across the bridge and didn’t care what was on the other side. We were
expected to return the next morning at 5am to enjoy our final day. We were
going to be there at “the crack of dawn.” I was thinking about that expression
as I went to sleep and anticipation kept me in this restless state. The next
morning down to the river we went…well at least the ladies went. We couldn’t
get the guys up.
When we got there, in the
darkness we could see the outlines of several people already there – about twenty
of them it looked like. Our hostess, Gloria has such a mesmerizing voice. She
commands silence and respect; two things that are easy to display any time of
the day, but at 5 am...well. She told us to stand, cross our arms and hold
hands with the person next to you. Then she wanted us to repeat after her. I don’t
like that game too much mainly because I never know what folks are wanting you
to repeat until you get to the end. Shoot! You could be asked to call on the
demons or something. I like to wait until I hear the entire thing and if I am
so inclined to do so, I will repeat after you, but this saying a few words,
waiting to hear the folks repeat it, then saying some more, then waiting to
hear the folks repeat it, then saying some more and then waiting…I don’t do
that. So, she said the words and folks repeated it and I stood there silently
waiting and chose afterwards that even though she wasn’t calling on the demons…I
still didn’t want to repeat it. Then she asked us to call out the name of an
ancestor or someone that was no longer with us – a friend or something. People
began to call out the names and then she started singing “That’s What Friends
Are For.” By now it is beginning to get light. And she called us all to silence
so we can hear the “crack” of dawn. Up until that point I thought it was an
expression. But that morning, standing by the bubbling brook, orange, purple
and blue colors running across the sky, surrounded by these beautiful folk all
holding hands, and humming softly, I HEARD the sun as it broke through the
darkness and cast its light on the day. I heard! So, the next time you are up
at that hour, go on outside and be real quiet and listen and know the true
meaning of “The Crack of Dawn.”
