May 1, 2012--Cracker Barrel

Beaufort, South Carolina has many beautiful and historic buildings that survived the Civil War. At the very beginning of the War, though things in South Carolina were not looking good for the North and one would thus think that Beaufort, on Port Royal Island and not far from Fort Sumpter, would be a Rebel stronghold. But Union troops somehow managed to seize control of it within a few months. With the help of Harriet Tubman, who served as a Union scout, they captured two large plantations on the Combahee River and freed hundreds of slaves who streamed to freedom and sanctuary in nearby Beaufort.

So General William Tecumseh Sherman passed Beaufort by as he and his troops rampaged across the rest of the deep South, pillaging and burning everything pre-Civil War, or antebellum.

But in spite of all it's charming hotels and restaurants, Beaufort lacks an indigenous road-food place to have a Low Country breakfast.

Disappointed, we scooted up I-95 in search of a faux-indigenous Cracker Barrel, where the country ham is at least recognizable.

Since Rona can be grumpy until she has a cup of coffee, before the caffeine hit her, I looked through The Post & Currier, "The South's Oldest Daily Newspaper." It isn't half bad. It includes real domestic and international news from the Associated Press and other sources and not just stories about cats rescued from wells.

It was Sunday and so I pulled out the sports section to read about the Miami Heat's rout of my New York Knicks. Lebron James was on a mission after the Knicks tried to intimidate him with a series of hard fouls. He scored as many points as the entire Knicks team during the first half.

Now depressed, I looked though the P&C's other sections--Arts, Business, Travel, the usual mix. But then out fell "Faith & Values."

"Look at this," I said to Rona, waving the paper in front of her, hoping she was beginning to be caffeinated. "A whole section about religion. Or, more accurately, faith and values."

"Do you think you're reading, the New York Times? Look around."

"I know, but . . ."

"Where do you think you are? New York City? Soho? Balthazar? You're in Nowhere, South Carolina."

Clearly the coffee had not as yet done it's thing. Rona actually loves the South. All of it. The more rural the better. It was road weariness and lack of sleep talking.

So, to let her be, I immersed myself in "Faith & Values," thinking I would find a few unintentionally ironic things to point out when she was more awake and better spirited.

Above the fold on the first page was Norris Burkes' column, "Jesus' Prayer In War Zone." To tell the truth I'm not much for Jesus stories, especially those that might be about how in wars God-is-on-our-side. All sides tend to claim that, but I believe that if God had anything to say about war He'd say make peace.

But I read on and it turned out to be surprising and more than half interesting.

Burkes had been a chaplain in Iraq and one day a young soldier was brought in with severe wounds. He had been praying for himself and his buddy who had been killed. He asked Burkes if he would now do the praying. But not for him. Instead for the insurgents who he hoped would understand that "we are trying to make their country better."

Chaplain Burkes said he could do that since the Bible says, "Pray for your enemies."

The young soldier replied, "Yes, but it says more."

At first Burkes was confused but the soldier clarified his cryptic comment--he asked the chaplain to pray for the insurgents who killed his friend.

Burkes asked, "What would that kind of prayer sound like?"

He said, "You know the prayer Jesus said on the cross--'Father forgive them for they know not what they do.'"

That impressed me.

By then Rona was her old self and asked what I was reading while waiting for the eggs and country ham. When I told her she smiled and said, "Isn't it wonderful to spend some time away from New York. Look at all the wonderful thing you discover."

She reached across to take the paper from me. "And look," she said, "just to balance things, here's an article about a book by a local author who's an atheist--Candidate Without A Prayer. Strange title but isn't it interesting to find it in the same section of the paper as the Jesus story?"

"Indeed it is," I said.

"Even more interesting, on the back page there's a Dear Abby column and horoscopes! Speak about faith and values."

"Let me see."

"In a minute. You're a Libra, right?"

"Yes, I was born on October 2nd. But I'm a horoscope atheist. I don't believe in them."

"Wait, wait. Yours says--

Your heart will lead you in the right direction. Gravitate toward the person with whom you share the most in common and you'll find a lasting relationship.

"What do you make of that? Sounds like me, right? Don't we share the most in common? And we've been together 30 years. That sounds lasting to me." By then Rona was having fun with me.

On the other hand, some times I like Rona better before she has her coffee. But then my ham and eggs had arrived and I plunged in. The ham really was decent.