It was early on a bright, muggy, morning as we headed north on highway 231 bound for Montgomery, Alabama. It was a straight shot into town, and we didn’t really have time to dilly-dally, but when I saw the exit for highway 239 and a place called Smut Eye, I struggled to keep from turning off and seeing what kind of place that was. Smut Eye? A few possible explanations came to mind regarding the origins of that name. In this part of the country, where many towns consist of

Groucho Marx and I never had much in common, as far as I can tell, except that, as he did, I have an aversion to joining any club that...