Just As I Am Not:A Poet Visits the Billy Graham Library Michael McFee (bio) Click for larger view View full resolution In the beginning, Billy Graham was a raw, tall, dashing preacher, on fire for the Lord, burning to save souls one by one; then he became the leader of a worldwide Evangelistic Association, responsible not just for converting sinners but also for the enormous gospel machinery he'd set into motion. Billy Graham, 1966, photographed by Warren K. Leffler, from the U.S. News & World Report Magazine Photograph Collection, courtesy of the Collections of the Library of Congress. [End Page 90] Music is in the very air at the Billy Graham Library. From the moment you leave the massive asphalt parking lot, hymns rise like a holy fog from the ground, through squat green speakers lining the sidewalks and crossing the grass, constantly piping "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" or "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name." It's vaguely soothing and a bit spooky, as if you're standing above a choir in a cavern, or walking over lost souls stranded in subterranean purgatory on the outskirts of Charlotte, who lift up their heads and sing to us humans still on the surface of earth: Let every kindred, every tribe, on this terrestrial ball, to Him all majesty ascribe, and crown Him Lord of all! + Today is October 23, 2007, my mother-in-law's eightieth birthday. This day trip from Durham to the Library and back is her big gift. My wife and I have driven her here, a two-and-a-half hour trip on busy I-85; another gift is that my wife's youngest brother, an investment banker in the Queen City, "surprises" us on the entrance sidewalk, to his mother's delight. My mother-in-law belongs to a conservative Southern Baptist church, in which she and her husband (who died several years ago) raised their three children, none of whom are Baptists anymore. Through the decades, she has donated regularly to Christian organizations like Billy Graham's, so this is a pilgrimage for her, a visit to a sacred place: the home of the world's most famous and successful evangelist. + The first of the two buildings we enter, just past a split-rail fence, is the Graham Family Homeplace. That may conjure up humble dirt-floor log-cabin imagery, or—given that Billy's family ran a dairy—a simple farmstead; but in fact it's a solidly middle-class two-story house, moved here from a solidly middle-class Charlotte neighborhood a few miles away. The windows have trim black shutters, there are comfortable porches, and the gutters are in excellent shape (as a homeowner, you notice such things). Though only a few rooms are open to the public, you can peer into others, and if you're like me you think: Man, I wish I'd grown up in a place as nice as this. Wherever Billy's religious convictions came from, they didn't arise from privation. If the preacher-to-be wasn't privileged, he certainly wasn't suffering, either. His earliest origins on the dairy farm were likely more modest—like many non-urban Americans ninety years ago, he surely bathed in a washtub with his siblings, and used an outhouse—but once his family moved to this red brick neo-Colonial, [End Page 91] when he was nine years old, there was nothing rustic about where he lived during his adolescence. The Graham Homeplace is surprisingly bourgeois. + We exit the back door of the house, through a screened porch. The sky can't quite decide whether to rain or not, but the singers underfoot never hesitate, blessing our ankles: Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee, how great Thou art! + The second building we enter—which looms behind the Homeplace like a shadow of the family's past, the hard work on the farm that made the fine house possible—is harder to fix in a phrase. On the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association (BGEA) website, it's described as a "barn-like structure" and a "dairy barn-styled library." It's not an...