Living Democracy Citizen Award: Craig Clary
By Laney C. Payne
There are people in this world who possess the power of changing the lives of anyone they come in contact with. If we are lucky enough, we each have the opportunity to meet such an individual. Bayou La Batre’s Craig Clary is one of those special souls.
Clary holds great grandfather’s oyster knife. (Photo by Laney Payne)
Wearing a faded “Preventative Maintenance” shirt and scuffed brown leather boots, 47-year-old Clary is a humble man with a story to share and a heart of gold. As a product of the bayou, Clary’s roots lie deep in the thick mud that covers the oyster-clad bottom of the Alabama Gulf. “Those pictures in the Bayou La Batre museum, those are all my kin folk. This here is my great great granddaddy’s oyster shucking knife. It’s real special to me. This place, it’s in my blood,” said Clary as he grasps a weathered wooden knife with a family “H” for the name Hodges engraved in the bottom.
Today, with bayou pride in his soft blue eyes, Clary makes it his personal mission to serve the people of his community. After 20 years of safe truck driving and time in the seafood shacks, Clary drove his 18-wheeler back to the place he now calls home. As an employee of the city of Bayou La Batre, Clary works up and down his hometown streets. “I came to work for the street department and saw the need. When you see a need, you find a way to fill it,” said Clary.
Clary makes Friday food deliveries all over Bayou La Batre. (Photo by Laney Payne)
But Clary’s work doesn’t end at punch-out. From a chance meeting with a now fellow volunteer after Hurricane Katrina, Clary saw the work that people were doing and found a way to get involved. “A blue van pulled up handing out TV dinners to folks. I saw the good work they were doing and wanted to do some myself,” said Clary. Each week on his day off, he does just that. Clary loads up his ’85 Chevy pickup with fresh produce to take out to the people of bayou. Whether it is Buddhist monks, Cambodian crabbers or Vietnamese grandmothers with children on their hips, Clary delivers food to whoever needs it.
“I created this route, and the people know me here. It’s the most rewarding thing, gaining someone’s trust,” said Clary as he tells of times passing tangerines through fences to local children.
With a strong respect for the people who live along the narrow streets on his route, Clary waves at each and every individual that passes by his beat-up work truck. “They know my truck, and come on out. I tell ‘em don’t be shy, just take what you need,” said Clary. “I got this old thing when I traded my Mustang, now it’s loaded down with food and whoever wants to join me along for the ride.”
While handing out bananas, citrus fruits, radishes, and other produce items, Clary explains the story of each and every individual we meet. “This man here is Neang Nou. He was hit by an AK-47 and now works hard crabbin’ and shrimpin’. If you look up there on the porch there’s ten sets of shoes, he takes care of ‘em all. If we leave food here, he’ll get it to whoever needs it. Plus, I don’t mind the Buddhist monks sayin’ a prayer for me,” said Clary with a laugh.
As his truck chugs along the back roads through family-owned crabbing shacks and gardens supporting the people who live in houses on the crowded lots, Clary is sure to let everyone he comes in contact with know how thankful he is to do what he does. With each delivery, Clary is met with offerings of smiles, coffee, or fresh rice. Instead of saying, “You’re welcome,” Clary replies with, “Hey ya’ll, I really appreciate it, I’ll see you next week.”
Clary delivers fresh produce in ’85 Chevy pickup. (Photo by Laney Payne)
“What keeps me coming back is the feeling you get off of it. It’s not something you buy in a store,” said Clary. “I love the people I meet. I help take care of them, and they take care of me. If I’m out working and they see me, they stop and feed me or give me a drink. We help each other.”
Not naive to the struggles and differences of life in Bayou La Batre, Clary keeps his focus on the people of the community. “After Katrina, ‘catastrophe’ was a proper word. That winter, we all struggled through,” said Clary.
“Some people think we aren’t educated here, but they are wrong. This is their education. They are making it, and they are almost completely self sufficient,” Clary added as he pointed out crop lines and homemade trellises covered in budding vines.
Clary is the meaning of community, and the lesson he teaches through the cab of his truck is just the beginning of the work he is completing. As I am beginning to reach the end of my Living Democracy in Bayou La Batre, I find myself eagerly waiting for my time of making rounds with Craig on Friday mornings. If ever in Bayou La Batre, keep your eyes peeled for the ’85 pickup loaded down with boxes of bananas and be sure to wave and lend a hand to a man giving his all for his community.
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