“I was raised in a family of givers in Mobile. We had pigs, cows, goats, and rabbits. All of my dad’s side of the family were carpenters and butchers. Driving home from church, sometimes Dad would pull over and say, ‘Just a second’ and grab a brown paper bag full of meat and take it to a family. We didn’t ask questions, and it was never talked about. It didn’t make sense then, but it does now. Helping people is just what we did.

I loved school and knew since I was a little-bitty girl that I wanted to be a teacher. I taught 2nd, 3rd, and 5th grade and was an academic coach. Then I got my Ph.D. and became an assistant principal.

I was an assistant principal for 16 years at several of the hardest-to-staff schools in Mobile.

I always wanted the kids who were the most challenging because my heart is advocating for the underdog. Just because a child doesn’t have a bunch of people at an assembly doesn’t mean he isn’t loved. Maybe the parents didn’t have a running car or the means to get there. My mission was trying to level the playing field.

If a student experienced a loss, I tried to attend the funeral. I went to dance recitals and did whatever I could to help them see that other people loved them. Sometimes I took in kids to live with me. They have grown into amazing humans

The school system worked from home during COVID, and I started going crazy.  My kids are grown and gone, and I could only clean so many corners of my house.  I looked up easy startup businesses, and God told me to get a hot dog cart which was strange because I don’t eat hog dogs. My mom ate them right out of the refrigerator. She would even eat a hot dog for breakfast.

I obsessively researched the hotdog business for about six months before I bought a cart. I didn’t tell my children because I wanted to know what I was doing first.

I got a little cart with a big red umbrella and set it up at Tricentennial Park. I saw many of my kids and parents from school, and it went better than I expected. I got my process down and started taking my cart downtown.

In the beginning, I was still working at school during the week and at the hot dog cart on weekends and holidays. I was drawing a good salary at Mobile County, but God told me it was time to go in a new direction and do the hot dog cart full-time.

My sister and brother-in-law were big supporters during this time of transition. He said I can’t turn back once I commit to something and shared the story of an explorer who burned his ships to give his men the message that there was no turning back. If I believe then I have to commit wholeheartedly. I burned the bridges and the ship, so I have to make this cart work.

My last day at school was the day before the school system got a big raise, but I followed God’s lead and He kept opening doors. Now my Ph.D. stands for Professional Hot Dogger.

About eight months into this, I ran into a guy I haven’t seen since 6th grade. He works for Cotton State BBQ. He told them about me, and they made a space for me where they have their food truck on Joachim Street across from the Steeple. David Tillman is one of the owners of Cotton State. He has been an angel to me, guiding and helping me along the way—getting nothing out of it for himself. The guys at Mobile Alliance are there quickly to help with anything I need. The greatness of Mobile isn’t told on the news. We have people downtown who are next to none.

I bought a food trailer and reached out to Trey Perry who had just finished trade school. He had never painted a trailer, but someone had to give him a start. He did a great job.

Lil Red’s Cart is named for my youngest daughter with bright red hair. My middle daughter’s dog is on the logo.

The chili and coleslaw for the hot dogs are homemade. It is time consuming and comes out of the bottom line, canned chili doesn’t look like chili. I couldn’t face someone serving that.

This hot dog cart isn’t about the food, it’s about the service. I love serving people, and I am here throughout the day, and during events at night. Sometimes I am open until 2:30 or 3:00 in the morning.

There are so many young people out here with lives hanging in the balance, and I believe this business will bless even more people than I could in school. Many of my customers are former students. I call them by name, and they look around, then come up and say, ‘You called me my government name.’ Yes because your name is Charles. They can’t stand it. They’re used to being called some other kind of name.

It is exciting to see them light up when they see me and say ‘that’s my teacher or principal.’ It’s like they take ownership. They call me ‘ma’ or ‘Hot Dog Lady,’ and the door opens for me to pick up where I left off in school. We talk about where they are in life, and I ask them how I can help. Sometimes it’s connecting them to a job or resources they need. I can do a whole lot from a hot dog cart.

There are three young siblings who ride their bike a couple of miles one night a week to see me, and I feed them hot dogs. One time they wanted to pay for it, so they stood downtown collecting money to buy their hot dogs. I love those kids and have done TikToks with them. They make my day more than I make theirs.

During this season of change, I did some changing myself. My kids used to ask why I did so much for everybody else and not for them? I thought they had all they needed, but that didn’t mean they didn’t need other support. God showed me it is never too late to rekindle and reestablish relationships, and that is what I am doing.

I am trying to stay focused on what God has called me to do because my heart gets sidetracked. I want this hot dog stand to be a ministry and used by the Lord. He will bring the people.

It is never too late to do something different. My mom graduated from college with her first degree when I was finishing with my second degree. She started at 50-something. You can do life backwards and out of order. It is not over until it is finished, and I don’t want to be finished until I cross over to the other side.”

Wendy

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Wendy’s story is a part of a series about the Weavers—people stitching our communities together, solving problems, and showing how to care for our neighbors. Send a message to Our Southern Souls to nominate a Weaver.