Before explaining what happened to Russell or what happened in his home and why he is in a state of shock, it is important to picture New Junction, Alabama, where Russell lives.

Fifty-three people live–it was fifty-six until a few hours ago–in this hamlet lying just about in the middle between Birmingham and Auburn. New Junction is an intersection where a state road and a county road crossed and people decided to stay at that intersection. There are six families (and their children), seven young singles (five of whom lived together), two old couples and two old women who live alone and one old man. It was Gladys, one of the old women and a widow for over ten years, whom Russell had spoken to. She lives next door to Russell, who is, by the way, a father to three children and a husband to Sandra. None of the residents work in New Junction; none of those who work in New Junction live there. Most who live there and who need to work, work in Birmingham. A few work in Alexander City. Most of those who work in New Junction live in Ashland or Goodwater.

Talladega National Forest is directly north of the city as you follow county road 148. This forest is where Russell killed a bear and lots of deer. Russell loves taking his two boys to this forest to hike and pick mushrooms. He is adament that a boy growing up in New Junction is a lucky boy: “Look at all the land at your fingertips, sons!” It’s amazing that we get to live in a place like this. Russell hadn’t always lived in New Junction.

Across the street from his home, which is about one hundred paces from the intersection, is the fire department, and next to that red building is a white church. It is normally hot in the summer and the blue haze above is a fitting tribute to this little hamlet in the heart of America. At the intersection is a lumber yard on one side and an Exxon gas station (because it is at the intersection) on the other. There is also an abandoned home on the north side of the AL 9 just a bit beyond the gas station.

Russell moved to New Junction thirty years ago from somewhere in the north. (I can’t remember from where and it really doesn’t matter.) Others have come and gone, and yet Russell still feels like a newcomer. He works in Birmingham at a MalWards, an international chain of supermarkets. He handles the cash register.