The Curse of Sikes & Kohns Country Mall

Here's a few little stories to share...

HAVE A SIX FLAGS DAY
I recently purchased a Six Flags season pass.  I haven't been to Six Flags in many years, since Goliath was brand spanking new, and I remember two things about that middle school trip I went on... first, Goliath was awesome.  Second, the park was just dirty.  I mean, really dirty.

In addition to the trash that lined the curbs, the "I don't give a rip" attitudes of many of the workers there, and the scenery and ride queues that seemed worn, faded and old, I always recall the gum spots on the Batman wall, and on the floor of the Superman ride as you are coming back to the station.  As you are harnessed in, facing down, many people will spit gum out of their mouth onto the platform... and its gross.

I called up my buddy Shawn and told him I had my season pass and a free ticket that came with it, and as long as he could cover his own lunch, I'd take him.  He was in full agreement, and we met up the next day around 9 and took off.  A few hours later, we are pulling up into the Daffy Duck Row 7 line in the parking lot, and walking in.  We immediately go on the Georgia Scorcher, waiting about 20 minutes to get on.  I figure this is good, because 20 minutes is a decent, short wait for a ride, and if we can wait this long for all of them, then we'll be in the good shape.

I was wrong.  We walked onto the Georgia Cyclone, Thunder River (he got soaked, I got my feet wet), the Ninja, The Great American Scream Machine and The Dahlonega Mine Train, and the only reason it took 15 minutes to get on Superman, Batman and Goliath is because we waited for the front of the line.  After Batman, Shawn needed a coaster break, so I took on The Mind Bender alone... front car, no wait.  I even closed my eyes during the ride, which I love doing on roller coasters.

The Ninja sucks.  Always has.  Its jerky, its rough and its not entertaining.  And I'm not alone in this assessment, as its Wiki page says, "it is the least popular U.S. major roller coaster as voted by people on ThemeParkInsider, ThemeParkCritic, and other review sites."  But, I ride it anyway.

I know much of the park was flooded last year, so I'm sure that helped spur along renovations and improvements, but I was impressed by everything.  The workers (team members?  associates?  Six Flaggers?) all wear bright green shirts so they can easily be spotted, and most that I encountered had smiles and friendly attitudes, and cheered you on with "Have a Six Flags day!". 

Some of the rides now have sponsors... Axe Body Spray is logo'd over The Ninja, which strikes me as kinda funny.  The Mind Bender sports the green color again on the tracks, and the new cars (a little too sleek--I kinda miss the boxy cars) have question mark decorations down the side.  No, not for the Riddler, like it was fifteen years ago, but because Stride sponsors this ride now.  The Scorcher has brand new cars, with the flames on it now blue--Georgia Gas is the sponsor. 

Over the six hours we were there, we rode everything we wanted, with minimal lines.  They have deals for drinks now, like a bottle of water is $3, but you can get 2 for $5 (which is what we did), and the ice cream sandwich I had was pretty good too.  Monster Plantation, which was in such dire need of an overhaul, got one.  The music is crisp and loud, the boats are comfy enough and remodeled, and the animatronics, silly as they are, are full of fur and worked perfectly.  The song is annoying as ever, but at least its understandable.

Overall, I was pleased with the day.  The temperature wasn't too bad, the lines were short, and I was hanging with a good friend, which is the best way to enjoy a good roller coaster.  While we were in the front row of Goliath, as it was cresting the first big hill (by the way, that coaster is terrifying, which is awesome) I could see the parking lot that was only a third full. 

We ended the day by stopping at Texas Roadhouse, where I dined on a delmonica steak and cheese fries.  Good times, good times indeed. 

THE CURSE OF SIKES & KOHN'S
If you travel down Highway 231, either from Montgomery headed to Troy, or headed to Monkeytown from Troy, you'll travel through, or at least near, a tiny little town called Pine Level.  I know very little about Pine Level, except that there is a South Alabama icon there.

The place is called Sikes and Kohn's Country Mall, or Sikes and Kohn's (pronounced "kahn's") for short.  And I hate this place.

Even before you get anywhere close to Sikes and Kohns, you'll see the billboards... oh, will you see the billboards.  Large, painted signs telling you that you'll find shoes like Allen Edmunds, Cole Haan and Saucony, jeans like Levi's, Lee and Wranglers, clothes from Lauren, Tommy and Jordache all at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall.

Oh, I have nothing against Mr/Mrs Sikes or Mr/Mrs Kohn's, nor do I take any offense at the nature of the store.  Its a bit overpriced for my tastes, but there are a few good deals to be had in there, if you look hard enough.  They sell everything from camo to cowboy hats, boots to bolo ties, and there is an entire wall devoted to men's and women's belts.

No, the reason I dislike this place is because everytime I go there, my car breaks down.  The first time I went, while in college, I stopped for some unknown reason--I'm sure it wasn't to shop.  This was when I had my green Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme.  I went inside, and when I came back out, nothing.  No turnover, no sound, nothing.  Had to call a tow truck, and it was terribly overpriced.

Another time, I had driven down to visit Allysong and Shelby and Jenn Mullterp and Rad a Tad, and was on my way back when I had to stop and use the facilities.  So, without thinking about it, I pulled into Sikes & Kohns Country Mall.  Parked on the gravel lot, ran inside, use the powder room, came back out, started up, and was pulling out of the lot when my car started making a really, really funny noise. 

Instead of going left, I went right, back down 231 to a small gas station/repair shop that I had passed.  They spent about three hours fixing it.  And as I crossed the median on 231 to take that left to head back to Birmingham, the car started... jumping.  And surging.  And stalling.   So, back to the gas station.  Then, it was towed to Troy.  Allysong drove out and picked me up.  Tow trucks on Sunday?  Expensive.

So, skip ahead like, 12 years or something, to this past April.  With a four day break between the ending of The Happiest Place in the Mall and the beginning of Starbucks full time, I decided I would take a few days to visit Mom in Samson.  And on the way down, I started seeing the signs for Sikes and Kohns.  I tensed.

It was time.  It had been too long.  The curse had warded over me for over a decade, so much so that I drove past it, never wanting to stop.  But not this day.  Not this time.  If I was ever going to beat Sikes and Kohns, it was time to do so.  With Toni Rocki Honda, no less, a 15 year old car that, if any car was going to break down, would be it. 

Finally, I saw the big arrow sign, and Sikes and Kohns was here.  I slowed down, pulled into the turning lane, and turned into the lot.  I found a spot close to the front--it was a Tuesday late morning, so it wasn't crowded--parked and turn Toni Rocki Honda off.  I got out, and went inside the building.  I figured any stay had to be at least five minutes, otherwise it wouldn't count... I wanted this Curse of Sikes and Kohns dispelled once and for all. 

I walked around inside, browsing the shirts and jeans, and observed the Wall O'Belts near the front.  Nodded that "hi, how ya doing, no I don't need help, but I want to acknowledge your standing there" head nod to the cashier, and finally, went outside.  Keys in hand, I unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel.  Took a deep breath, turned they key...

...Toni Rocki Honda started to life.  I exhaled.  Put 'er in D, drove down the driveway and out onto 231... and drove away . The curse was done.  It was over.  I would now no longer be afraid to stop at Sikes and Kohns Country Mall.  I don't know that I'll have any reason to stop there anyway, but now it won't be a purposeful not-stopping-there.

And just to add some drizzle to the cake, the gas station that I had my car serviced, and further broken, at is now just an abandoned building. 

I win.

MORNING TIME
While I'm at Starbucks now, working, I'll wear a drive thru headset... even if I'm not on the window, I'll have it on to assist those who are in the window by getting sandwiches, or pastries, or restocking cups or whatever.  In the morning, its usually pretty busy, so I hear one beep after another, as one car after another comes to the speaker to order, but every now and again, there's a break.  And in that break, I can hear... well, I can hear birds.  Birds chirping.  And singing.  And as I listen to those birds chirping, even for a brief few seconds, it makes me think I'm 8 years old again.

When I was a kid, my mom and I would take a trip down to Florida for part of the summer.  My aunt-then, sister-now (there's a story there, I promise, but for later), lived in Winter Garden, and I'd get to hang out with my cousin April, and it was awesome.   We were young enough to sleep in the same room, as boys and girls do at that age, and I remember waking up early in the morning to those birds.

There would be a box fan in the window, and the peaceful hum of that fan would keep me drifting in and out of consciousness for most of the morning.  I would open my eyes just enough to see that it was early, the light in the room dim, I could barely make out the features in the room.  Sometimes, even with the box fan in the window, we'd still leave the window open and the morning's cool air would be in the room.  It was Florida, mind you, and it would get hot... but not yet.

And, the cool outside air circulating with the box fan's air, the dim light in the room getting a little bit brighter every few minutes, me on my little bed with the blanket pulled up to my neck, April the next bed over... and I hear the birds sing.

Just like at Starbucks this morning.

Speaking of fans...

A FAN OF THE FAN
There is very little better than a good fan.  The Lovely Steph Leann has always had issues allergies and sinuses, so a ceiling fan whirring all night long might keep her cool at night, but there is a wheezy, stuffy price to pay in the morning.

During the summer, we try to be conscience of the thermostat, because we'd rather spend money at Disney World than pay a $250 power bill every month... so it can get a little toasty in our room.  But on those days when she is gone, when I sleep alone, I turn that fan on high.  I crawl into bed, and pull up my favorite mom-handsewn butterfly quilt and let the cool breeze rush around me.

But my favorite?  When I was a kid at home, my parents let me used a small, oscillating fan (there is never use of the word "oscillating" unless the word "fan" is after it) that I would set on a metal folding chair.  I'd use books to set it on to get just the right height, then hit that button in the back to make it turn.

That breeze from the fan going back and forth over the length of your body is awesome.  You feel it on your face for about two seconds, then its gone, as the air moves down your body laying there under the sheet.  Then, if you set it up just right, it would hit your feet for about two seconds, then head back towards your head again.  That was a glorious feeling. 

Movie reviews for about a dozen movies coming this weekend

A Hometown Darkened

Wow.

Wookiee shot me a text this morning, saying "Sorry 2 hear about Samson". My first thought was that the women's basketball team had been defeated... they won the state championship two years in a row, but I figured they lost a few seniors and... wait... basketball is over. This was my brain function at 715am this morning. I texted back "What happened?" and Wookiee replied, "Check net. Some nut went on shooting spree in Kinston, Geneva and Samson."

None of these words registered in my barely awake brain. "Shooting spree" and those town names didn't click. The Lovely Steph Leann appeared from her three-times-per-week 6am workout at Curves Chick Workout Center, hearing Wookiee's text. She asked who was texting me so early, and I said, "Wookiee. He's saying something about Samson." She sighed, and said, "Yeah, I heard that there was a shooting in Samson."

I moved to Samson in 1984, from Austin, TX. My parents didn't want me to grow up in the big city, and since Samson was my mother's hometown, they thought it was a quiet place to live. And it was. It is, really.

We moved to 320 Johnson Street, on the corner of Johnson and Farmer. A year or so later, we moved across Farmer Street into a bigger house (with a huge yard that was ideal for football). Another year or so later, we moved across Johnson Street into a new home, and there my father lived until he passed in 2000, and my mom still lives.


Troops from Fort Rucker, 20 miles away, stand guarding Samson's downtown area. Looks like they are standing in the Ripley Street & Main Street intersection. I think its funny that they keep referring to "Downtown", when its just two blocks of half empty stores.

Johnson Street is also known as Highway 87, running from Troy, straight through Elba, straight through Samson, goes 9 miles to the Florida border, becomes Highway 81 and then heads straight to Panama City Beach, with a turn or two. It intersects with Highway 52, which runs through several counties, including the ones in question. For perspective, Andalusia, Alabama sits in the central/western part of the state, with Opp about 20 miles away, Kinston about 5 miles after that, Samson 8 miles after that, then 10 miles to Geneva. Keep going, and you'll run through Hartford, Slocumb and eventually, the big city of Dothan.

Let's walk down the sidewalk in 1984 Samson, shall we? The Piggly Wiggly sat on the corner of Highway 87 and Highway 52. Walk down the block a bit, you would have come to People's Drugstore, which made amazing real cherry cokes. There were a few hardware stores and feed stores on your left, and as you cross Ripley Street, you'll see the spot where a bank went in. A few more small shops, then you come to The Hobo Pantry (back then, it was The Hoco), then cross another small street and you'll be at The Big/Little Store, selling gas and fried chicken, of which in my life, I partook of both in immense quantities. On up the road just a bit more is Flower and Gift World, though we'll cross here.

We'll now cross Highway 52, or Main Street, and we'll be at Samson Banking Company, the main bank in town. Here on your left now is Clark Furniture, Merchant's Clothing Store, then Bill's Dollar Store (no jokes please). Then we come to Faulk's, an old antique store, there's The Western Auto and on the corner is an appliance store who's name escapes me.

Twenty five years later, not a ton has changed. People's is now gone. The Pig is a discount grocery store, or a tobacco store or something else. The Western Auto has become Bradley's True Value Hardware. Many of the feed shops are gone, Faulk's became a flower and gift shop owned by Forrest and Charlotte Wright, who also owned The Wright Place, a restaurant I have discussed here before and worked in for a long time. A video store or two popped up, first dealing in VCR videos, now DVDs and I can only assume Blu-Rays too.

My first movie ever on a VCR? "Batman". My first movie ever rented? "Coming to America".

Clark's is also gone, as is the appliance store, mostly remaining empty. I think a pool hall opened up at one point, where Merchant's used to be, it might be open, it might not, who knows. Sandy Wright, daughter of, has a salon there somewhere. When the Subway opened up down the road toward's Geneva, it was a big, big deal. Somewhere along the way, we even lost a red light, going from three to two, with the light at Ripley and Main Street being replaced by a caution light.


If this were any other topic, THIS would be a brilliant photograph. Well, it is a great picture in itself... but what it represents is horrifying. This is the glass at the True Value, that used to be the Western Auto hardware. My mom bought her washer and dryer from there, paying about $40 per month for a billion years until she got it paid off. They kept pencil-written ledger books. I got my first radio from here, a boom box in 1985, where I listened to Wham!'s "Make It Big" and Starship's "Knee Deep in the Hoopla", and stayed up late nights with my finger on the record button, hoping to catch the full version of "Born in the USA" by Bruce Springsteen.

The first time I ever remember our town making the national news? The pipe plant east of Samson, about two miles out of the city limits, caught fire once, spewing deadly chemical smoke into the air. CNN's Headline News covered it, so me and all my friends were excited that for a minute and thirty seconds, our town was shown on a national news network.

This is how small our town is, and not just because its 3 miles from the east to west city limits. The population runs around 2,000, maybe a bit more, maybe a bit less. It always makes me smile thinking about people who graduated from Birmingham area schools like Hoover and Spain Park and Vestavia, with classes running anywhere from 250 to 600. I had what, 42? I knew all of them personally, had had conversations with every one of them personally, knew about families and backgrounds, crushed on a few of the chicks, hung out with lots of the guys... I cannot fathom a Junior/Senior Prom where I didn't know at least one person in each of the couples, because I just knew everyone. And they knew me.

I know underclassman. The much heralded Official Clouds in My Coffee Samson High School Crush Julie Wise was a sophomore when I was a senior. Her clan invovled Andrea Foreman and Beverly Day and many others. I was good friends with Jason Howell, an 8th grader and fellow sax man in the band. I was good friends with Rona Mock, a freshman, and was excited, like everyone else in the school, when she ended up with Ryan Hutchison, a junior. If you gave me an hour, I'll bet I could come up with the names of at least 75% of our yearbook, names like Rachel Thorton and Wade Rials and Curtis Cantrell and Paula Baxley and Julie Dunn and Amanda Adams and JT Thomas and Tracey Carter and Jason Lambert and... Michael McClendon.

I didn't really know this kid very well, he was in 6th grade when I was a senior, but I knew of him. I knew some of his classmates better, fellow 6th graders like Casey Glisson and Kelly Spivey and David Stephenson and Jessica Caldwell.

To the average reader, folks like KT and Mindy D'A and McQ and others, these names mean very little... just like names would sound to me if they began to recite people they knew from their childhood and growing up. But to people from Samson, from the area, all these names resonate with a face, with a memory, with a conversation, with a first kiss or a beer or an argument or driving down Main Street, turning around in the Samson Banking Company parking lot and driving back down Main Street.

I grew up here. I lived in that little yellow house, three houses down from the libary with its (no exaggeration) about 10 bookcases of books. I rode my bike to Samson Elementary in 1984, the first year it opened. I played "A-Team" and "V" at school, and in my yard, sometimes with people, sometimes by myself. I grew older, and Star Wars action figures gave way to writing and drawing and seeing movies with Greg, or Chris McCall, or Tonya Windham (three BFF lifers for me).

This was life in Samson. Until yesterday.

When people ask me where I'm from, I say "Samson, Alabama" and am often responded to by, "Where is that?" My answer is, "Its a little town about fifty miles south of Troy, maybe 9 miles above the Florida line. Do you know where Enterprise and Dothan are? You do? Well, we're about 18 miles southwest of Enterprise and 43 miles west of Dothan."

Now, I feel like its going to be like Paducah, Kentucky or Columbine, Colorado. People will identify the town with lots of people being shot at the hands of someone who didn't have a value of human life.

After The Lovely Steph Leann said she'd heard the news that Wookiee had texted me about, I got out of bed, brushed my teeth, used the restroom and slowly made my way down to the computer and television to see what this was all about. And I was floored.

I said a few days ago that nothing really surprises me. I stand corrected. Yesterday, a job turn-of-events surprised me. And this news today floored me.

Michael McLendon, 27, shot the dogs. Then he shot his mom, Lisa, 52, three or four times, laid her on the couch, put towels on top of her, then doused her, the towels and the house with lighter fluid, then setting it on fire. He then drove to Samson, down Highway 52, where he pulled up onto West Pullum Street, a street I'd ridden my bike on many times, or had gone through on the way to Chris McCall's house, and opened fire on some relatives of his that were sitting on the porch.

Why were they sitting on the porch? Because that's what people in Samson do on pretty late winter, almost Spring days. They sit on the porch. McLendon riddled the porch with bullets, killing five people... including Tracy White, 34, who I know. Knew.

Tracy White and I were in the same grade together, though I do believe she dropped out to get married somewhere around our junior year. She married Murray Wise, and I remember kidding her about her name going from White to Wise, and how it wasn't much of a jump. I didn't know her all that well, I just remember she had this thick head of bushy black hair and a quiet disposition about her. And she made the unfortunate decision to sit on the porch yesterday afternoon. You don't have to send me your kind regards, I only grieve over Tracy's death in the same manner that I feel for all the people who were killed, and a town that has now lost its "boring" status in the worst way possible. Perhaps Tracy only slightly more because I knew who she was.


The big guy in the middle... someone correct me, but is this Murray, Tracy's husband? This was taken outside of the home where the front porch became a bad place to be.

On that porch, Dean Wise, 15, James White, 55, and Virginia White, 74 and nearby, also were shot and killed.

Somehow, he opened fire at Andrea Myers, killing her and her 18 month old baby daughter Corinne. Someone nearby ran up, grabbed 4 month old Ella and snatched her out of harms way, though the baby suffered injuries either due to shrapnel or an actual bullet.

Then, McLendon drove through Samson, pulling up at The Big Little Store, shooting at random. Killed Sonja Smith, 43, walking out of the gas station. Injured Greg McCollough, who used to order hamburger steaks at The Wright Place when I waited on him, his extremely good looking wife and their two cute kids.

Then he shot James Starling, 24, as he tried to run away, and Bruce Malloy, 51, who was driving past him, before screaming down Highway 52 into Geneva, shooting at a Wal-Mart where he injured a few people, before the police caught up to him, stopping him by a PIT manuever--this cool trick where to stop a perpretrator, you ram their car with yours... a cool trick until it was used to stop a guy who killed a whole bunch of people in my hometown.


I think this is the Big/Little Store, where I used to get fried chicken on weekend lunch. Chris McCall used to work there a long, long time ago. They've remodeled, and its lost some of its charm, but still...

There was apparently a shoot-out at or near Reliant Metal, where McLendon used to work, and involved in the final battle was Josh Myers, a sheriff's deputy. He was the husband of Andrea, and father of Corinne and Ella, though he had no idea that while he was firing at McLendon, his wife and one daughter was dead, and another gravely injured.

I listed the names because I want to be able to remember their names... I have been watching the news all day, hopping around from Fox News to CNN to Obama TV, I mean, MSNBC both online and on television. The news is all over, discussing "What caused this guy to snap?" and "How did it happen?" and "Let's show you the timeline and the trail of carnage", all fine questions when they are talking about another town, another event.

I gotta say, as a kid, we often joked about Samson's Police Force. Maybe it was because it has been such a slow, dying town for so long, there wasn't much for the SPD to do. But from what I gather, they, along with Kinston's and Geneva's and a few other departments went above and beyond, probably preventing more bloodshed. There were police car windows that were blasted out, and officers injured, some of them saying, "I'm not stopping until we get this guy!". I tip my hat to you.


Not sure which is worse... the orange numbers, which from watching "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation" I assume means bullet casings or other points of interest... or the Tonka Truck and scooter sitting amongst the shooting spree evidence.

So, from here... the news will move on. This will be a story that will dominate for another few hours, and another more pressing story that you haven't heard will take center stage for a day or so, followed by another and another. You'll probably get updates here and there, buried in between President B. Hussein Obama's love fest and the upcoming Madoff trial and more kids for Brangelina... you, Coffee Drinkers, will slowly forget it, maybe remembering it not so much as what happened, but more of "It's d$'s hometown." Honestly, if this were any other town, I'd forget it too.

But its not any other town, not to me. It's Samson. I wanted to get out of that town so badly in May of 1993, but I love my town right now more than ever.

I apologize for the jumbling words, run on sentences and random thoughts here and there, I just thought it would be good for to jot some thoughts down before they do become mixed, blurred and memories.

See, three hours away, in the big city, life is unaffected. The "Worst Shootings In Alabama's History" are but a blip on the news ticker to most people by I take it to heart. My town just suffered a blow that most cities would easily survive.

This afternoon, I plan on watching American Idol from last night, maybe make some shortened notes, then do the results show later. I'll call my mom in a little while, see how she's doing and then grab some lunch. Maybe I won't watch any news at all... I'm sure I will see it later.

This is why I blog. To help me, and you fellow Drinker, figure out what the heck just happened, and to help accept that we probably will never know.

(Steve Crews, you probably know more than I do, running the newspapers in that area, so you can let me know where I get the facts wrong... good job on the news.)

(Oh, and one more thing... thanks to Pa & Ma Cartwright, The Big Wazyluka, Katyboo, Jess, Shelby and several more people who sent their well-wishes and hopes that I and my family were doing well after all the news broke. Yes, I am great, and my family is just fine. Mom is probably sitting on her porch right now)