Pam Pylant found a natural audience in our group. She went to college in Memphis and lived and worked there after she graduated. But it seemed like she came home a lot. And she was an important influence in the MEMPHIS section of this web site. Once all the links and connections are in place I’m sure we’ll find Six Degrees of Pam Pylant. She married a wild man from Arkansas named Paul Bankston.

“When Paul and I were leaving Kennett after our wedding, we were leading a caravan of Memphis friends. We weren’t sure they could find their way back to the big city. I realized I had forgotten something and had to go back by my house on Butler Drive, which was down the street from Miller’s Package Store. We decided to stop by Miller’s to stock up on beer for our long journey back to Memphis. Our mini-parade pulled up to the drive-through window. We gave the guy our order and waited in all our wedding finery with our friends honking behind us. The clerk brought us our order and –as a wedding gift– threw in a case of Budweiser. Guess we qualified for his frequent purchase program. We got lots of nice wedding gifts but this one was totally unexpected and especially moving.

I don’t know when or who took me to my first bridge party. You drove down a gravel road for a few miles, crossing a rickety, wooden bridge. And then suddenly, there it was. A huge concrete bridge in the middle of nowhere… going nowhere. The bridge was so big that it could hold several cars. One time a friend of Jan’s from Poplar Bluff brought one of those big motor homes to a party. He parked that enormous RV on the bridge and we had the unheard of luxury of an indoor bathroom. Usually the bathroom situation was far less sophisticated. The girls went on one side, the guys on the other. Once, Charlie brought a camping potty. It was a toilet seat on legs. Great concept, bad design. As you sat there tinkling and enjoying the view, you were splattering your ankles with muddy, warm, rented beer. I remember when RP decided we needed a bonfire. He disappeared and returned with a big armload of wood. We all enjoyed the fire until we discovered where the wood had come from. Remember that rickety wooden bridge you had to drive over to get to the concrete bridge? RP had done a little remodeling. Made going home that night real interesting.

Memphis. I remember that incredible house behind the dairy. It was the home of some very interesting folks. I remember sitting in the huge front room that had been decorated by RP in early carnival motif. We were sitting at a card table while Chase taught us the basics of bridge. Overhead, on ornate twelve-foot ceilings, Richard had glued beer cans; ashtrays complete with cigarettes; a ten-foot long blue, stuffed snake from the Delta Fair and Livestock Show; empty liquor bottles; and various other memorabilia. The bathroom was also a work of art. Within reach of the toilet, a pencil hung from a string and no one left without contributing some words of wisdom. You could spend hours reading.

There were so many poker games…in so many places. I remember games in the peck’s TV room with Jim and Tammy Faye in the background. Games at Larry Joe’s in that little house out back without the bathroom. [have you noticed how very large a part of my life bathrooms have been?] Larry Joe hated to play poker with the girls. It just made him nuts when we would win a hand. Poker games at Church Street with the occasional tornado in the background. Games at barb and Steve’s house, where we would suddenly realize all the guys had left the table. Jan was in the living room reading aloud from Penthouse Forum.

I loved Charlie Peck. And I didn’t even know it. On February 5, 1970, I was celebrating my first birthday without my mom. I was in college in Memphis. Mom had died in October and I was still reeling. Charlie had been a friend of my mom’s. He had once gone with her and his mom to St. Louis to see the Cardinals play baseball. That February night I was miserable. I called Charlie and he insisted on coming over to my dorm. We got in his big Chrysler, the one that had a broken passenger seat. It didn’t have a back. Every time we came to a stop, I had to grab the dashboard to keep from sliding into the back seat. Charlie brought me a half-pint of cherry sloe gin or something like that. We drove around and talked. I don’t remember a lot. I just remember Charlie was there for me. He always was. I can’t guess how many times he helped me move. Or took me to some party. He took me to see King Kong for the first time. He always let me get away with half-assed answers when we played Jeopardy. He let me get away with a lot. I loved Charlie peck and I didn’t even know it.”

— Email 6/20/98