FOR MOST OF THE CENTURY: CROSSES AT ZARIN (PART 43)

Jean Bell Mosley's new autobiography, "For Most of the Century," is only available in serialized form in the Southeast Missourian. Return each week for her continuing story.

Publication date for "The Crosses at Zarin," the book I had largely written on the banks of Wessel's Pond, was Tuesday, August 1, 1967. I began the day by sitting in the porch swing watching a heavenly blue morning glory uncurl and talking to my friend. It went something like this: "God, thank you for the gift of another new day where I can see where you are and where you have been. I sit here beside you with nothing but praises, thanksgiving and rejoicing that you are here and now and ever will be, and that I can talk to you, friend to friend.

"You know that today the book I've wanted to write about your Son will be published. Thank you for the strength and ability you have given me to do this. May it unfurl like that morning glory there and come to full loveliness, attracting readers who in these bewildering days of seeming chaos need to find comfort in your promise that he whose mind is stayed on you will be kept in perfect peace.

"You know my mind is stayed on you, for I see you everywhere I look. How beautiful the feathers of the cardinal that just flitted before me, almost as red as that tomato you made peeping at me through green foliage in the garden plot. The guard hairs on the tail of that squirrel sitting up there in the nearby oak are picking up beams from the early sun. It is like splintered light from that carbide light of long ago.

"If my book, being published today is not a great light, may it be at least a little beam as bright as one of those guard hairs. Although my book says it is dedicated to my friend, Thomza, it and everything I do is dedicated to you. I trust the Holy Spirit will dust off, straighten up, correct anything that is imperfect of mine before it is handed to you."

Broadman Publishers arranged a book signing tour for me in Mobile, Ala. They proposed to arrange a flight from Cape Girardeau to Atlanta and then on to Mobile. Unused to making my way through a large airport, I told Broadman I'd rather go by train since it would be less expensive and take my college age son with me. They acquiesced.

Stephen and I boarded "City of New Orleans" train which left Anna, Ill., at 1:20 p.m., August 14th and arrived in New Orleans at 12:25 a.m., August 15th. I had hoped to see some large ante bellum homes along the route, but since trains usually travel through the less scenic parts of town, we saw no great plantation or city homes. Spanish moss hanging from the more southern trees and an increase in the black population at train stations were about all the new things we noticed. We did have our evening meal on the train, which I had looked forward to, but it wasn't very good.

We took a cab from the train station to Travel Lodge and stayed all that night and the next day at New Orleans. It was raining and the first things we had to buy were umbrellas. We were to go to the Baptist Seminary at New Orleans where I was to autograph some books for the library. The head librarian was to take us to lunch. To our somewhat disappointment and perplexity, the librarian said she was so harried that day due to some crisis at the library that she had no time for lunch. She stuffed a twenty dollar bill in Stephen's pocket and told us to "go have lunch." We couldn't help feeling a little snubbed and wondered if this lunch date was just some last minute thought of Bob Phelps, Broadman's sales representative, who had initially planned only for a trip to Mobile.

We not only went to lunch, but took a tour bus of New Orleans and saw all the famous places.

We left New Orleans at 8:30 p.m. on August 15th bound for Mobile. Of course we were keeping in close touch with Edward about where we were and where we were going.

The trip from New Orleans to Mobile was across Lake Pontchartrain. It so happened that a boat was passing through the Lake and the railroad tracks, as in a drawbridge, had to be raised for its passage. This took a long time, so it was well after midnight when we arrived at Mobile. Nevertheless, I called Edward who was very upset and worried about our being so late with a call he had expected much earlier. He was always worried when Stephen or I were away from home.

We spent the 16th and 17th at Mobile. The book signing parties were at a book store in a shopping mall that had just recently opened and at a local library. Neither sessions were very successful. Either not much publicity had preceded my visit, or folks just didn't want to buy the book. Saleswise I would call the whole trip a flop. But then we did get to see a part of the southland we had never seen before.

Mr. Phelps ushered us around at Mobile and attempted to take us to see Bellingraph Gardens, but when we got only half way there, he decided we would miss our train back to New Orleans if he didn't turn around right then and go back to Mobile.

We arrived back in New Orleans in time to have supper at Brenan's and walk the streets in the French Quarters, stopping ever once in a while to listen to the music coming from open shops along the way.

Next morning we boarded the train for Anna, Ill., at 7:10 a.m. and arrived in Anna at 5 p.m. Edward met us and his smile was the broadest I had ever seen. I was enormously glad to be back too, for in Mobile I had my first touch of depression. More of this depression was to come later.

"The Crosses at Zarin" went into its second printing shortly after publication and Broadman called it their best seller. New York Times and other big metropolitan newspapers seldom, if ever, consider religious books for their best seller lists.

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.