Like an intrepid fool, I ran for the office of Revenue Commissioner in Pickens County, Alabama, in 2002.  The experience was indescribable – filled with one life lesson after another. I didn’t win, but that’s not the story. This story is about something very wonderful that happened to me one day, close to Primary Election Day, on the first Tuesday in June, 2002, a day I shall always remember with bittersweet joy.

On that day I was canvassing my own neighborhood and came upon a modest sharecropper’s home, a house built of white concrete block, with a front porch on which two men sat in rocking chairs.  One of the two - the man I came to know as Joe Rabbit - was thin as a rail and wrinkled with age.  He greeted me with the most welcoming of smiles but with no pretense at all of concern for the campaign card I handed his way. The other man explained with great courtesy that Mr. Gardner had just gotten home from the hospital and was mighty grateful to have lived to see yet another day.

I noticed a chipped hunk of tombstone by the front step and asked if it had any significance. Joe Rabbit perked up a bit and told me about the Indian graves that dotted the area. This particular specimen, however, looked like a castoff from The Columbus Marble works, rather than an Indian artifact! Then he told me, with a faith that glowed, and shone in his face brightly, that he looked forward eagerly to going on to Glory. But then he sadly added that his joy was dimmed because he would not meet in Glory so many of his ancestors who had not been baptized. 

I never forgot Joe Rabbit, and wondered again, in recent weeks, who were the dead he wished had been baptized.  After checking with a neighbor, I discovered the nickname of the old man I had canvassed, "Joe Rabbit".  I also learned that Joe Rabbit’s nephew, Henry Allen, had done work on our home and we were already acquainted.  So I gave Henry Allen a call to find out a little bit more about the story of Joe Rabbit.  I learned the following information from Henry Allen Gardner on July 1st, 2008: 

Joe “Rabbit” Gardner was 96 years and 7 months old when he died on August 20th, 2002, less than three months after I had the privilege of meeting him. Henry Allen Gardner, Joe Rabbit’s Guardian during Joe's last days, buried Joe Rabbit at the same place his uncle Joe was baptized – Providence Baptist Church, just west of Liberty, in Pickens County, Alabama.  Joe Rabbit had joined this Church at the age of 28 and over time became its oldest Deacon.

At Providence Church, baptisms continue to be done as they were in the past, following time-honored procedures.  A revival meeting is held and the baptisms are performed at the end of the revival, or "camp meeting".  The exceptional faith of Joe Rabbit moved Henry Allen to accept Christ and be baptized at the age of 10 - a decision he has never doubted or regretted.  When a person chose to join the Church and be baptized as Henry Allen had done, they were asked; “Is there anyone you want to pray for you?”  When Henry Allen was asked this question, he took Joe Rabbit’s hand and led him to the baptismal pool.

The baptismal pool at Providence Church is a venerable and historical creation. It's the very same one Joe Rabbit was baptized in, long years ago.  Appropriately, the pool was first built and maintained by the Deacons of the Church.  The Church was blessed to have an old spring running on its land and a pool was dug out of that spring.  Then the Deacons drove cedar posts around the perimeter and created a set of stairs leading to a wood-lined bottom. Nowadays, they might use concrete, but cedar won't rot, and wood under water lasts a long, long time. Since this pool was full from the spring water pretty much year round, it would accumulate debris, leaves and such, during the year. When camp meeting neared, the old Deacons would faithfully clean out the baptismal pool, as had been done every year for ages past.  Henry Allen told me “That water is COLD.” And if you're familiar with real spring water, as it flows out of the ground, you know what he was talking about. After Henry Allen was baptized, he told his uncle; “I’ll try to do the right thing”. Joe Rabbit didn’t miss a beat when he replied; “You’ll do the right thing!  Don’t try to do it – just do it!” Joe Rabbit's faith was as solid as a rock. Like the old hymn says, "On Christ the Solid Rock I stand", and that's just what Joe did, all his long life.

Joe Rabbit had kept good health through hard work for nearly all of his life.  He hoed his garden with a specially designed hoe and even went to the extent of digging trenches to the roadside ditch to divert needed water to the garden. He had never been sick a day in his life until Henry Allen's father passed. Joe got a touch of pneumonia then and spent some time in the hospital. But his next, and last, hospitalization was his first serious illness. No one, least of all Joe Rabbit, wished to treat the colon cancer that claimed his life. His faith was all he needed, and he figured God's will was his will, too, one way or the other. Besides, he was ready to meet the Lord! 

Joe “Rabbit” Gardner was the child of Starling Gardner (of African descent) and Luberta Cook (of American Indian & Irish descent).  Luberta, nicknamed “Duck”, was a midwife for the community, and had been baptized in the Christian faith. She and Starling had 7 children. Joe Rabbit’s mother had long silky dark hair, the kind that hangs down the back, and common to both American Indians and the Irish, so that she probably got a "double dose" . 

Starling died before Henry Allen was born and Henry Allen thought it likely he had been baptized.  Henry Allen knew of no other family members whose lack of baptism would have caused Joe Rabbit to be concerned.  The distress could perhaps be attributed to his illness and the nearness of the end of his days.  There may have been social problems that arose in Joe Gardner’s youth regarding the baptism of his Indian family. Perhaps it was close friends he knew, from other Churches, or even relatives, who were Believers but just never got baptized. Not many Black Churches had baptismal pools back in Joe Rabbit's younger days, especially not out in the country where he lived. And in the old days, many Black folks were literally scared of water, except for drinking, washing, and cooking. Maybe old Joe Rabbit was thinking back several generations. After all, he was 96 years old!  

Hoping to catch a picture of the old house and the tombstone, I asked Henry Allen if I would be welcome to go up there. Sadly, the house has been torn down and no evidence of it remains.  Henry Allen tried his best to guide me by saying; “There’s a peach tree out front of the house – it grew up since the house got torn down. The tombstone was just to the left of the peach tree.  But the land’s all grown over.”

Running for political office brings hidden and unexpected blessings, and, as you can see, meeting Joe Rabbit was, and remains, a very special blessing for me.

         May God bless Joe Rabbit. This is the site where his house once stood.