Posted on Wed, Apr. 30, 2008
Help make a reunion
Sundays were the same. They dressed early, and Elmer took Sarah and Esther, their little girl, to the Nazarene church.
Then, going neighborhood to neighborhood, he picked up kids and delivered them to Sunday School.
So Elmer wasn't surprised when, one evening after work, Sarah said she had some new children for him to add to his route. It was the George family, two boys, two girls.
"What's their address?"
"They don't have an address."
"Sarah, they have to have an address if they live in a house."
But they didn't live in a house. They lived in a cave, somewhere on the banks of the Chattahoochee River.
Sunday, he drove to a designated spot in Bibb City where the George clan was to be waiting. No one was there, so Elmer honked his horn. First one time, then two.
Leaving his Pontiac at the curb, he climbed through the weeds toward the river. He started walking, and ahead he saw them Š four naked children playing in the sand.
He told them he was there to take them to Sunday School.
They couldn't go, one of them said. They didn't have any clean clothes.
Elmer assured them that didn't matter, so the children ran into the blackness of the cave.
From outside, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Elmer made out the form of two people. The mother and father were inside, too drunk to come out.
The children came out wearing clothes as dirty as they were. Elmer walked them to his car, and all four kids crowded into the backseat.
At the Nazarene church, the children were welcomed with open arms and hefty hugs. It was that way every Sunday, for now the Georges were part of Elmer and Sarah's Sunday mornings.
Elmer made a deal with an upholstery shop. Every month, they put new seatcovers on his backseat. The children smelled that bad. But every Sunday, they got into his car, and, on the way to church, he told them the story of Jesus.
In the late 1950s, his job took Elmer and Sarah away from Columbus. They relocated to Jacksonville, Fla. Life was good, but life was sad. Esther, their only child, was killed on Interstate 75 on her way home from college.
When he retired, they went back to Atlanta. One Sunday, they returned to Columbus for homecoming services at their church. Elmer delivered the morning prayer.
From the pulpit, he saw a distinguished man in a blue pinstriped suit, and somehow Elmer knew this was someone he was supposed to know.
The man was David George. He had led a successful life in Columbus. He told Elmer the happy stories of his brother and two sisters, and he thanked him for telling them the story of Jesus.
The man in the Pontiac was Elmer Hyatt, my uncle. He'll be 90 in a few days, and what a birthday surprise it would be for him to hear from the George children again.
I can't locate them, but maybe you can. If you do, please e-mail me: richardhyatt@
richardhyattcolumbus.com.
Maybe all of them can get together on a Sunday morning.
Contact Richard Hyatt at rhyatt@ledger-enquirer.com
