by Kevin Cummings, Messenger Staff Writer
Lula and James Burnett pose for a picture on the couch in their little beige home on Oak Street in Sewanee.
“You’re sitting way over there,” she says to him. James slides closer and puts his arm around her.
James, 73, says God meant for him to marry Lula, 74, from the moment they were born. They grew up together in Belvidere, Tenn., where they lived two miles apart, played together as children, went to the same elementary and high school and sat in the same church pews on Sunday.
Did James have a crush on Lula when they were little kids?
“I don’t know all that,” he says brusquely.
“He did,” Lula says smiling.
As of Jan. 7, the day of this interview, the Burnetts have been married 50 years.
James says, “I tell you one thing, we’ve been to the mountain top, and we’ve been to the valley, but we always got back to where we started from. You believe that can happen?”
Their first kiss was in high school after watching a ballgame. Lula was getting out of the car in front of her house when he kissed her.
“You ain’t gotta tell the whole story,” James says, and she starts laughing.
Many of their early memories are faded now, “but I remember that kiss,” Lula says. She laughs again when asked how that first kiss made her feel.
“I don’t know, I can’t explain that,” she says.
They broke up several times in high school and got back together, the moments apart making them appreciate one another even more.
In a car again, he asked her to be his wife in December 1964, when he came to pick her up for a date. They don’t remember where they were going that day.
“We were going to Paris,” James jokes.
They got married on Jan. 7, 1965. On Saturday, Jan. 10, the couple will renew their vows at Belvidere Church of God, where they still go to worship. A community reception will follow at 5 p.m. on Saturday at Cravens Hall in Sewanee.
Lula says a lot of people around town don’t know her first name, they just call her “Ms. Burnett,” like the kids did at the Sewanee Children’s Center pre-K class, where she taught for three decades.
James held a variety of jobs in Sewanee, working at Sewanee Military Academy, the University Supply and Grocery Store, and the University athletic department. He started work for Goodrich in Tullahoma in the 1970s, helping build landing gear for airplanes, and worked there 30 years before retiring. He also served on the Sewanee Community Council for about 10 years.
They raised four daughters in Sewanee, living 48 years in the same house. They also have four granddaughters, two great-granddaughters, and a great-grandson who is about a month old.
The phone rings during the interview and Lula goes into the hall to answer. “Hi, Poo-Poo! How you doin’?” It’s their four-year-old great-granddaughter Arianna calling to wish them a happy anniversary.
Lula hangs up the phone and sits down next to James again.
“I just call her anything, sweet pea or Poo-Poo or whatever,” Lula says. “She’s going to be a flower girl in the wedding.”
Lula says she is excited about renewing her vows, but she can’t speak for James.
“I’m already married is what I say,” James says.
“I didn’t say we weren’t married,” she counters exasperatedly.
They banter back and forth constantly, correcting one another, the arguments not arguments at all, but a sweet rhythm of two people who have spent a lifetime together.
“As long as I’m with him, I’m happy,” she says. “Everybody has disagreements and stuff, but I don’t have no complaints about him that make me want to smack him upside the head.
“Isn’t that right?” she asks him.
“I don’t know, you’re the one talking; I’m listening,” he says.
James jokes often, but reveals a depth of heart and sincerity when he says, “Lula Mae is the sweetest woman in Sewanee.”
Lula says one of the secrets of a long marriage is to let disagreements go. And “prayer, lots of prayer.”
“Raise Cain and forget about it,” is James’ advice and they start laughing again. “Some people’s wife or husband get angry at each other. I’ve heard about people angry at each other three or four weeks at a time and sleeping on the couch.”
“Huh?” Lula turns to him, as if she can’t believe that’s possible.
“You sleep on the couch and you sleep in the bed. We ain’t never done that,” James says. “I ain’t never been mad enough to sleep on the couch. I ain’t gonna do it, no way — couch gets hard.”
James smiles at Lula once again.
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