Got to see Miss Mamie.

If we can find her.

That's the stated mission as we started the day late last week.

I was leaving the office for a road trip from Birmingham to Sumter County in western Alabama.

Destination: Epes.

Road trip with two of my favorite people: my wife, Catherine, kin to Mamie Willis. And dear friend Mary Porter.

But first we had to stop in Livingston. Catherine and Mary, both Presbyterian pastors, had to be there for a church meeting. Livingston's close proximity to Epes gave Catherine the idea to go check out some family lore and see Miss Mamie.

I resisted at first.

Epes? I know native Alabamians who say, 'Oh you mean Opp."

"No, Epes."

"Spell it."

E-P-E-S.

Epp-es. EEEPS.

No, one syllable Epes, soft 'e'.

Every town around here is 20 miles apart, that's how far the horses could go in a day, an Epes resident said.

I think you mean Opp.

I decided I'd like to go. I thought about how much I enjoy seeing the rural south (having lived in Alabama, Georgia and Florida for a combined total of about 35 years of my 58-year-old life).

First Presbyterian Church in Livingston where we began our search for Miss Mamie.

First stop a pretty small town white-painted church, First Presbyterian Church in Livingston, next to the University of West Alabama.

I was a little worried about the church meeting. Was I even allowed to be here? Don't make me stand up and introduce myself, I thought. This was an actual church service, complete with preacher, communion, the whole nine yards.

Then there was a meeting about the business of the Presbytery of Sheppards and Lapsley. This is the governing body in the region if central Alabama for Presbyterian USA churches. This was a room full of preachers. Fun fact: Lady Bird Johnson attended service at this church once with a friend back in the 1960s, I learned.

A tall, thin and quite young looking man, the Rev. Barrett Abernathy, was the church's pastor. I must admit when I saw the sermon title "Interpreting the Tongues" I kind of shrank down in my pew. Place was packed. How do I escape? Catherine caught me eyeing the door and grabbed my hand.

Then the pastor made a joke about the sermon title and rolling around on the floor and I interpreted that as we were NOT going to do that. Heh heh, I chuckled nervously. Then I remembered they were serving barbecue for lunch. I can do this.

"Give me Jesus," Quincy White sang beautifully. "When I come to die. When I come to die. Oh when I come to die, give me Jesus."

And then the pastor read scripture Acts 2:1-21.

I was feeling a little light headed. It was about time for my LBD medication.

A sudden storm was blowing hard winds and rain outside.

The pastor read from the text: "And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting."

How did he do that? I wondered.

"Cretans and Arabs--in our own languages we hear them speaking about God's deeds of power. All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, 'What does this mean?'"

That's what I was thinking. Then I got it. The passage was about communication. A journalism sermon. Communication foments relationships, takes emphasis off differences.

Then he read: "...and your old men shall dream dreams."

I snapped from my reverie. Barbecue time. Church had ended. We went to lunch.

The barbecue, from a secret recipe, was awesome. I found out that this area in the Black Belt has 7 barbecue clubs.

Valerie Burnes, who teaches at the university, told everyone about the clubs as we were chowing down....mmmm sauce so good with the pulled pork. The clubs are set up differently from club to club but most meet at a community center and cook up a bunch of barbecue. They do this once a month as a community event. Some cook whole pigs, Burnes said. I made a note to look up a public TV report on the clubs.

But we were late to look for Miss Mamie. The rain had let up. We found a guide in the church office administrator Janice Greenwood who lives in Epes, so we would follow her there. It was some distance as the crow flies, was my only understanding.

Janice, who has a dog named dammit (get off the couch dammit!), said in the old days this used to be a thriving community. Before the Depression.

"There was a boarding house-hotel, three banks, a drug store and a stockyard," she said.

There's nothing there in downtown Epes. (Oliver)

The town's name came from a doctor named John W. Epes, who sold the land for a depot to the Southern Railroad, according to encyclopediaofalabama.org

Now Epes is a town losing population. In 2000, population was 210; in 2010, 192; 2016 estimates: 169.

It's a geographically beautiful area on the Tombigbee River sitting on the white cliffs, Jones Bluff. It's the same kind of chalky limestone exposure that was made famous in the song "White Cliffs of Dover."

We stopped in what used to be downtown. Guess it still is downtown except there's nothing there but empty buildings and a train track that you can follow down to the Tombigbee River and the white cliffs. Somewhere the town folks say there is a place they call 'the waters' where folks bathe for its healing powers.

Catherine's father, William J. Willis, grew up in Epes. The 95-year-old Navy veteran served on a ship during World War II in the Far East. He has all kinds of fishing stories about the Tombigbee.

The white cliffs of Epes on the Tombigbee. (Oliver)

The water moccasins, he said, would climb up the limbs of the riverbank trees and drop into your boat

Moving away from downtown, we continue our mission to find Miss Mamie. With help from Janice, we found the site of Miss Mamie's schoolhouse. It had burned down some years ago.

School house where Mamie taught, now gone. (Oliver)

So where do we find Miss Mamie? Janice gave us directions down an overgrown backroad white with the chalky limestone. But she said she wasn't going any farther. Good luck, she said.

Man this is off the beaten path, I thought, kind of eerie. Did anyone notice how Janice didn't come down the dirt road with us? Don't be silly my wife said. She was driving. Mary and I absorbed the almost surreal beauty of the green pastures, deep woods and the sound of nothing but birds. Deeper in we went to the point we wondered if we'd ever get there. Catherine talked about Miss Mamie, which is what her students called her. Way back in the day when 2nd graders sat next to 4th-graders sitting next to 6th-graders. One room.

Then in a beautifully green clearing on the left, we had reached our destination.

Here it was, surrounded by a chain link fence. Unlocked. We entered.

Henagan Cemetery, Epes, Ala.

The flat grave marker of Mamie Willis, mother of William, grandmother of Catherine was easy to find. She was amongst an outcropping of old Willis headstones. She was buried in1990. Not enough time for the ravages and decay of time on her grave marker.

Her marker read:

Mom

Mamie A. Willis

August 24, 1895

February 26,1990

Other Willis headstones, though big and impressive, didn't fair so well with the weather. Some were barely readable.

Some dated back to the 1800's. What a discovery: a line of Willis' all resting in one beautiful place. Catherine was pleased. It's a goldmine of family ancestry information. Catherine's sister, Martha, the family historian will likely take lead on whether there are new family insights found here.

Mamie's marker

rNew insights or not, it was a lovely spot and a lovely day. I said I might reconsider my cremation plans and get planted in this oasis of rural western Alabama.

Bye Bye Miss Mamie

Thanks for teaching us that the journey means more than any destination.