Little did I realize that “hobby your left” would become a mantra that, even after all these years, still rises to my mind’s surface when I am out of step with life
One summer evening as we lounged on Jaybird’s porch, looking across my father’s Mississippi Delta cotton fields, I asked the wise old black man, my best friend and mentor, what his final piece of advice would be on the last day before he departed this earth for his well-earned eternal rest.
“Always advance — never retreat,” he answered.
“Does that mean I should go down fighting instead of giving up, even when the odds are stacked against me?”
Courage is the chief virtue; cowardice is the worst of sins
“Take your choice, my son: In all of life’s struggles, be a man, fight the good fight. That is far better than giving up and surrendering. Remember what I have always preached to you: Courage is the chief virtue; cowardice is the worst of sins.”
When the day set by the Lord for my departure arrives, I will repeat to my children and grandchildren Jaybird’s final exhortation, but I will say it by using a strange combination of words.
Strange words indeed, and incomprehensible. I first heard them a cold, drizzly, windy day in early 1966 at Fort Polk basic training base deep in a Louisiana swamp. Along with a company of raw recruits, I was exhausted to the point of collapsing as we marched down a muddy trail. Having slogged along since before dawn’s first light, we had gotten out of step, and were all thinking the same thought … this guy will never give the command we so desperately want to hear: “Halt! Take a break. Fall out.” The guy was Sergeant Sylvester “Sluggo” Smith.
He was a man whose size, strength, and no nonsense demeanor would intimidate a cape buffalo. With glossy black skin, a leopard’s killer eyes, muscles bulging against every thread of his multi-chevron uniform, a lion’s roar voice, and mustache whose perfect alignment with the brim of his drill sergeant’s hat frightened us into never forgetting that he was as close to being all the soldier a man could be, and would make the same of us, or — horror of horrors — we were doomed to be recycled. Glancing over his shoulder at our un-rhythmic marching cadence, he bellowed, “Hobby your left.”
Though unintelligible, we finally determined that Sergeant Smith meant, “give me your left,” and hop-skipped quickly until our steps were synchronized with his: left, right, left. Anything less, he would not countenance. He expected us to advance constantly, and to do it aligned with each other, and in step. Using different words, Sergeant Smith was saying what Jaybird said: Always advance — never retreat.
Little did I realize that “hobby your left” would become a mantra that, even after all these years, still rises to my mind’s surface when I am out of step with life.
When my last day arrives, and my children, whom I will not see again until we rejoin in the next life, ask, “Dad, what is your last piece of advice for us?”
I will say those same confusing words that this story and time will translate for them: “Hobby your left.”
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
One summer evening as we lounged on Jaybird’s porch, looking across my father’s Mississippi Delta cotton fields, I asked the wise old black man, my best friend and mentor, what his final piece of advice would be on the last day before he departed this earth for his well-earned eternal rest.
“Always advance — never retreat,” he answered.
“Does that mean I should go down fighting instead of giving up, even when the odds are stacked against me?”
