Before you read too far into this article, I wish you would follow this link and listen to the song “Believe” by country duo, Brooks & Dunn. If you do not have time to listen to it now or just do not want to for whatever reason, let me give you a brief summary of the meaning of the song. The song is sung in story format and is told in the eyes of a young man as he recalls memories of his next-door neighbor he would visit as the “singer” was growing up. He talks about the older neighbor and how he wondered how he stayed so positive in life after having been in a war and also losing his wife and child. The song continues and the younger man grows up and later hears of the passing of his dear neighbor. He recalls the influence his neighbor had on him despite their age difference. The storyteller’s life was most definitely changed by this man. He also learned that “there’s more to life than just what I can see.”
If this song had been written by a young girl about her older female neighbor, then you would have the same story as me and Mrs. Pennie Bryant. My family moved from the county to the cityside area of Skullbone, TN to the neighboring small town of Bradford, TN when I was ten years old. I had never really had next-door neighbors before, so I was eager to see what “city” life would be like. Keep in mind I use the term “city” loosely. My parents bought an empty lot next to Mrs. Pennie Bryant where they decided to build a new home. We moved into our new house in November 1987, just one week before one of my grandmother’s passed away. I never realized at that time the void that Mrs. Pennie would fill in my life, but boy she did.
Mrs. Pennie was a retired schoolteacher from the local elementary school. My brother had been lucky enough to have her as his teacher, but she retired before I ever met her. She lived with her husband Mr. Paul in a white house in the center of West Main Street, right next door to me. I have always been drawn to talking to older people, but this new relationship was much different. My conversations started with Mrs. Pennie as we began construction on our new home. She walked over and told us she was so glad to have us as her new neighbors. At first meeting, she reminded me a bit of Minnie Pearl. She was small frame, and something about her voice and enthusiasm made me think she missed her calling to be an entertainer.
My parents already knew Mrs. Pennie so I was the only one really learning her story as I grew up. Her husband had suffered a stroke years earlier and Mrs. Pennie was his caretaker. No longer mobile and only able to speak a few slurred words, he often sat in his favorite chair in their den at the back of their house. My mother sent me over with some goodies one day and that was my first-time meeting Mr. Paul. I was a bit nervous because he was frail, and I was not sure if he understood much that I was saying. Up to this point, my conversations with Mrs. Pennie had taken place outside in our driveways or on her front porch where we spent many afternoons enjoying the breeze and chatting.
After Mrs. Pennie introduced me to Mr. Paul, my fear vanished immediately. He had soft hands and a big smile, and he would stick his hand out for me to shake when I could come in and leave. He sat quietly in the cozy den while me and Mrs. Pennie had our chats. If I told her something funny or something I had done at school, she would walk over to his chair and slowly and loudly tell him what I had said or what accomplishments I had shared with her. And he would smile.
Mrs. Pennie was so much more than just a neighbor, she was my friend, my cheerleader, and an inspiration to me. I would go outside and play basketball by myself, thinking nobody was anywhere in sight, only to hear her clapping and cheering for me from her front porch when I would make a basket. She brought the Sunday paper over and laid it on our doorstep every Sunday afternoon, because she knew my parents would enjoy the extra coupon savings from the paper. She would listen to me go on and on about my middle school problems. She bought from every fundraiser I ever presented her with and then wanted to know all about the activities the money went for. She loved us. And she loved Mr. Paul.
Mrs. Pennie did not ask to spend her retirement years looking after her husband. But she did it, and she did it with grace and a smile. There were many days I would sneak down her steps to her den and catch her singing and playing the piano for Mr. Paul. There were many days I would walk in on her reading her Bible or a devotional from their church to him. She never left him for anything and included him in everything. She fed him, dressed him, and you could see him smile when she walked into the room.
Mrs. Pennie taught me what it is like to face demanding situations and still be thankful. She continued to praise God during her storms. She loved with every intent of keeping her wedding vows, especially the sickness and heath part. Everyone loved her. Everyone.
Had Mrs. Pennie passed away when I was still younger, I think I would have been devastated. It would really have been like losing one of my best friends. But, she lived until I was older and wise enough to understand that she had done just what God put her here to do, to care for others. And like the song says about the sweet old man, if anybody ever deserved a ticket to the other side, it would be Mrs. Pennie.
Every time I hear the song “Believe,” I think of Mrs. Pennie. She undoubtedly believed that God did not put us here to just take up space. He has a plan for each of us. I did not plan to have an 80-year-old best friend, but I did. I did not plan to fall into the trap of addiction, but I did. And I think the lessons we learn from our own mistakes are the building blocks we can use to buld up others.