I'm what some may call a man of many titles: I've been crowned a king of a campus, coerced into being the co-host of a Vegas stripshow, and was voted the Class Harry Potter" by my 5th grade class. Despite those, there's a little known title that I'm quite proud to claim. I was once a television star. While I'd like to tell you I once acted as a survivor of plane crash on a mysterious island or a foul-mouthed, weed-smoking dog man, I have to be honest. My stardom was brief, and I was more of a slight feature of something far greater. See, here in East Tennessee, our local news showcases a daily program that explores the local culture. Usually fairly brief, it features all our southern foods, practices, and oddities. My screen time was roughly a modest 5 seconds, but that's alright. This story is what takes place behind the scenes when the cameras weren't rolling. This is the story of a local figure's shame ousted by the thoughtless actions of a naive 12 year old. This is the story of my experience with The Heartland Series.
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| An eighth of these will take you to other planets maaaannnnn |
It was the allure of a Knoxville Blueberry patch that bore this tale into creation. This is a place I've known my entire life, a small area of land up the hill from the home of my grandparents. With over 15 rows of blueberry bushes, some nearly ten feet high, it really feels like a place of genuine magic. Growing up, I often imagined it to be the home of a small colony of hillbilly gnomes or perhaps some great horned beast. Really, the true magic are the marble-sized treasures growing from each plant. I've met a damn good amount of people that claim they don't like blueberries, but a handful of these beauties always change their minds. They're juicy, sweet, and miraculous in every way. The addictive nature these berries possess is only rivaled by their ability to cause horrible diarrhea if eaten in excess (and that will certainly happen if you have enough on hand). These berries, once known as "Noe Boy Blueberries" until my parents took over the berry picking game, are hits at local farmer's markets, key ingredients in delicious southern desserts, and will transport you to Narnia if you eat enough of them. After contacting WBIR in hopes of having the berry patch featured, we were elated to find that we were candidates and would be featured on the show. This was a dream come true! Or....well, not a dream but....it's like that feeling where you accidentally wake up 2 hours early and get to go back to sleep for a while--just mighty keen.
I feel as though I'd be doing a bit of a disservice to this story if I didn't go ahead and give some background on Bill Landry, beloved Host of the Heartland Series. Many east Tennesseean readers will immediately know him as the charming papaw of the small screen. There's something gruff yet comforting in his narration, almost like a southern Gandalf the Grey. Meeting Mr. Landry was somewhat surreal. It is similar to that one time in my angsty high school days that I saw Hollywood Undead live and compared it to seeing a team of superheroes in the flesh. Although that may have been because they were wearing those ridiculous masks. No, this was a much more down to earth, meat and potatoes experience. Imagine Christmas eve rolls around and Santa Clause himself knocks on your front door, sits himself at your kitchen table and requests a glass of your finest bourbon. Landry had been there and done that with most things southern; the surprises of the Blueberry patch would do little to catch this veteran off guard. Still....if there's one thing this day taught me, it's that even the legends can crash and burn.
Being the obnoxious, attention-hungry 12 year old I was, I spent most of the day acting out in horribly silly ways. From sticking my face in the camera as I noisily chewed a mouthful of berries to throwing them at the film crew during takes, my annoying nature knew no bounds. Perhaps that's why I only got about 5 seconds of screen time in the final cut. Either way, Landry and the rest of the team took my antics in stride, even playfully agging me on. Eventually Bill decided he wanted to pick a few berries of his own, just to get in the experience. It seemed this Johnny Depp of the heartland adapted to every role he received. Deciding I'd join him, we picked mostly in silence. Berry picking is similar to meditation in the sense that you sort of lose yourself in the wholesome nothingness of it all. Suddenly, piercing our silence like a knife in the dark, something echoed through our berry row. Looking up, Landry looked at me with wide eyes, sheepishly asking ",What was that??" Despite his inquiry, Bill knew good and well what the noise was. Whoever quipped it, ripped it, Landry. Bill Landry has just farted in front of me.
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| Host of the Fartland Series! Sorry....I'm 5 years old. |
What that a big deal? No. I knew I could take this secret to the grave. Well, aside from telling friends, my brother, everyone reading this blog post....and my mom. Innocently enough, I approach my mother to tell her about this little anecdote, one that got her giggling. Here, this god among men, expressed a bit of hilarious humanity. It wouldn't end there though. As the look of horror spread across my mother's face, I knew in my heart that something had gone terribly wrong. "I'm still wearing my microphone," she whispered. They'd wired her up during her interview and she still had the damn thing on. "Yep, and I just heard every word of that story!," barked the cameraman as he emerged from the patch. It was over. The truth had been revealed. Hearing this latest gossip, WBIR fired Landry and altered our story for one more noxious in nature. "The Poo-berry Patch" would be the beginning of the dark ages for the Heartland Series. My one mistake had destroyed everything. Or so I might have imagined as a 12 year old. In reality we laughed it off and had a decent afternoon.
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