Dawn Phelps
Columnist
It was a hot, muggy day in Columbia, Tennessee, the town of my birth. Just rolling down a car window let in a blast of hot air like a furnace that had been turned up to 95 degrees!
The year was 1983. I graduated from nursing school that spring and was weary from studying. For some time, our family of four had looked forward to a trip to Tennessee and other southern states. Our first stop was in Columbia.
I also wanted to get reacquainted with one of my relatives in Tennessee, my sweet Uncle Jones, a gentle older man bursting at the seams with musical talent. To hear him play “Darktown Strutter’s Ball” on the piano was a real treat!
I knew that Uncle Jones had lived at a boarding house in Columbia for many years. I thought I had a general idea where the boarding house was located, but the town was considerably larger than when we were there last. So, after driving up and down streets, we realized we were lost and needed help.
My husband Ralph headed the car into the driveway of a very small house to turn around. There was an older gentleman sitting on the porch. Before we could back out of his driveway, the gentleman got up from his seat and made his way toward our car.
My husband asked the man if there was a boarding house in the neighborhood. The man knew where the boarding house was located and gave us precise directions. But before we went on our way, the man asked, “Would you like a drink of water?”
We gently tried to decline his offer, but he quickly headed toward his house and went inside. He soon returned with two glasses of water complete with ice cubes. The water was offered in glasses that jelly had been sold in. If you are older, you may have drunk from a “jelly” glass while growing up.
He handed the two glasses to us in the car, turned around, and proceeded back into his house again. He returned with two more glasses of ice water for our daughters Melody and Misty. Mmmm, mmmm! What a wonderful treat on such a stifling hot day!
We were taken aback by such gracious hospitality—true southern hospitality. We finished our water, returned the glasses, and thanked him more than once. Before leaving, I asked him, “What is your name?”
And he replied, “E. P. McKee.” I liked the sound of his name—E. P. McKee.
Using Mr. McKee’s directions, we did find my Uncle Jones, and we visited him. But the memory that stands out most vividly from that hot day was Mr. E. P. McKee’s simple act of kindness that cost him only a few ice cubes, water, and a little energy and time.
Even this summer, on an especially hot day, when I’m craving a cold, icy drink of water, I still remember that day and how good that drink of water tasted. The memory is still as crystal clear in my head as my glass of cold water!
And I remember the friendliness and hospitality of the people of Tennessee with their slower southern drawls and polite “Yes, Ma’ams” and “Yes, Sirs.” More than likely, by now, Mr. McKee has met his Maker, yet my memory of him remains!
Sometimes the simplest kindness can leave a lasting impression and memory behind. Many people in this world could use a smile, a kind word or deed, and something as simple as a cold glass of water.
The Bible says that we if give a cup of water “in my name” it is as “unto Him.” E. P. McKee willingly gave four glasses of ice-cold water to four thirsty Kansans in 1983, a reminder of what a gift “a cup of water” can be to thirsty travelers.
Yes, over forty years later, I still remember E. P. McKee and his kind gesture. I hope he is having a good time in heaven. And I still like the sound of his name—E. P. McKee!
