Just a Reunion - 3

Love Prevails

Three years after the reunion

Rhythmic sounds of waves crashing against the rocks were like listening to one’s soul. Meditating, relaxing and restoring currents of energy flowed through Wanda’s body as she sat back in her beach chair and looked out over the Pacific Ocean. In the three years she had lived on the west coast with Jordan, each day gave her new purpose.

Jordan, reclining beside her with his hat blocking out the sun, absently reached over and took Wanda’s hand in his. It was a natural response, one she had grown to expect and enjoy. Jordan held her hand, stroked her back, or held her in his arms as if she were an extension of himself.

“What are you thinking?” Jordan asked in an easy voice. He was still resting with his hat over his face.

“I am thinking this is perfection, a perfect dream,” Wanda replied. “Being with you sometimes seems surreal.” Jordan gave a chuckle and then slid his hat back on his head as he sat up, propped on his elbow.

“Wanda, my darling Wanda,” Jordan said as he looked at his love. “This moment might not be real; this beach with the ocean and squawking seagulls might be a dream, but rest assured, my love for you is genuine.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it.

How many times had Jordan given that simple testimony, and how much did Wanda love to hear it? They had been apart so many years, yet their time together now was as if they had never parted.

Three years ago, at that memorable high school reunion, Wanda and Jordan had reunited. They sat in the large ballroom with a room full of other people and music and merriment, yet they were able to connect as they talked. As if they were isolated in the room alone, they told their stories.

Wanda explained the days following Jordan’s departure, how she had tried to wipe his memory out of her mind. She spoke of her years in college as she worked to become an educator. Wanda also told her story about finding Robert, her eventual husband and how their life together had been blessed with love and children.

Jordan revisited that day in Viet Nam which had redirected his life. From the pain and scars came opportunity. Although his brief marriage had been a mistake, he also explained that the broken marriage helped him see just how perfect his love for Wanda had been.

Following the reunion party that night, Jordan had ridden back with Wanda to the hotel where they were both staying. Jordan walked her to her room and kissed her good-night. The kiss was a promise, a vow that there would be more.

The next day, the couple shared breakfast and then Wanda drove them around to see all of the landmarks. The reunion group had arranged tours of the old high school, and walking the halls together hand in hand felt so natural. Those school hallways where they had walked together so often.

At the end of the day, Jordan became somber as they sat in her hotel room saying their good-byes. “Wanda, I don’t want this to be over,” Jordan confessed. “I still have so much to tell you. I would like for you to come and visit me in California.” It was a difficult thing to ask of her, but he wanted to show her the life he had made at his new home.

“Jordan, I don’t know,” Wanda replied. “My home is in Dallas.” Yes, the house was there, but her children were spread out over the country and she was retired. What was there to stop her from joining him?

“I can’t lose you again,” Jordan explained. “Come see where I live and how wonderful our life together could be.” Wanda stilled as shock overtook her. Did Jordan just ask her to spend the rest of her life with him? Her eyes looked down to where their hands were joined and then back into his eyes.

“Jordan, what are you asking? Are you saying you want us to have a future together?” Wanda needed clarification that her dream was coming true.

“Yes, my darling, I want you to see the possibilities and the beautiful place where I live,” Jordan said. “If you think you would like to stay forever, then the good life I have now will become perfect.” He leaned closer as he ignored the pain in his leg and gently kissed her.

“Oh, Jordan, it is more than I could ever hope for,” Wanda said as she returned his kiss. This union of flesh was just as needy as was the ache in their souls. What they had sacrificed more than forty years earlier was now a possibility.

Yes, was Wanda’s answer and three weeks later she flew to California to be with Jordan and two months after that they were married in a quiet ceremony on the beach. What had once seemed an impossibility had turned into reality.

That fateful night at the reunion when Wanda had walked out, had almost ended any hope for a future. If she had not remembered how Polly had always tried to come between her and Jordan, she would have gone back to a life where she no longer belonged, an empty life that left her with an empty soul. She had stopped just outside the glass doors and decided the least she could do was to talk to Jordan one last time. She had gone back into the reunion hall to simply satisfy her conscience, without expectation of her dreams coming true.

“You are still thinking, darling,” Jordan said as he looked at Wanda’s somber expression. “Are you tired or is it getting cold? The wind is carrying the chill of a new season.”

Wanda looked up and gave him that satisfied smile she now carried with her and answered, “I’m fine. I am here with you, where I belong.” Jordan stood and helped her rise as he took her in his arms. This was where she belonged. Here with her lover and in his comforting arms.

As they walked from the beach back up the hill to their house, Wanda saw a vision of that night at the reunion when their eyes first met, and she had fallen back in love.

It really had been more than just a reunion.

* * *

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Just a Reunion - 2

Jordan’s Story

Jordan Cable held on tightly to the stair railing as he made his way down the steps to the tarmac below. The small commuter plane had parked as closely to the terminal as it could. Jordan’s crippled leg made descending the stairs an effort. He had waited and let the other passengers exit first because he knew he would only slow them down.

“Thank you for flying the Eagle, sir,” the flight attendant said cordially as she helped Jordan step down from the final step.

“Thank you, young lady,” Jordan said. He remembered a time when a young lady like her would look at him in anticipation rather than with pity in her eyes. Jordan used his walking cane to go the last fifty yards to the terminal. The going was much easier now that he was on level ground.

After claiming his luggage, Jordan sat patiently waiting on the hotel shuttle to arrive. He reached in his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. And for the umpteenth time, he read over the agenda for his forty-fifth high school reunion.

Forty-five years had passed as if it had been twenty. This was his first reunion, his first time back in his hometown since shortly after he had graduated.

Jordan had been in love with Wanda Southwood and they had planned sharing a future together. Wanda had a scholarship for college plus her parents had planned financially for her education. Jordan’s parents wouldn’t be helping him attend college, and the scholarship he had hoped for never developed. Jordan refolded the paper neatly and put it back into his pocket.

Wanda had been the prettiest girl in school, at least in his eyes. The fact was, he seldom looked at the other girls. Although he had been popular, once he had begun dating Wanda, no other girl mattered. He rubbed his aching leg, the one that always hurt, but more so when he sat for long periods without exercise.

Jordan now lived in California, Palo Alto, in fact. He had woken early and flown all day to make it back to the East Texas woodlands. He had flown over the green forest as they approached the airfield and the green carpet of trees welcomed him home. He was tired now and hurt from inactivity, but he also felt an unexpected anticipation.

The hotel shuttle arrived and the driver took Jordan’s bag and loaded it in the back of the van before giving him a hand. He settled in and buckled his seatbelt as the van pulled away from the terminal and headed west, following the sun. The eight mile drive gave him time to relive his last days at home.

Wanda had had a future and Jordan didn’t want to hold her back. Her mother had been pressing her to break up with him and concentrate on her future. Jordan had decided that it would be best if they broke up and went their separate ways. They had discussed how their relationship would continue; only they would have freedom to grow. And, it was best. They were both too young. Giving up their dreams would damage any relationship they had in the future.

That had been the sensible thing to do, the right thing, the hardest thing he had ever done. He sacrificed his happiness with the only girl he had ever loved, the only girl he would ever love, in order to do what was right. Jordan closed his eyes and blocked the pain he still felt from that day.

The driver pulled under the canopy and came to a stop. He was young and moved like an athlete. Jordon used to move that way, but that was before, before the explosion.

Jordan had stayed out of sight, avoiding seeing Wanda after their breakup, for he knew if he ever saw her, if he was ever close enough to touch her pretty hair, he would beg her to run away and get married. He had moped around his house and his father, an oil field roughneck, finally had his fill and told Jordan to get over it.

“Men don’t get their hearts broken,” Jordan’s dad had said. “That is for the women. Grow up and get over it.” Grow up; that was his father’s answer to everything.

“Here you go, son,” Jordan said to the young man and handed him a ten dollar bill. Jordan had worked at odd jobs, often just for tips, and always made sure to tip service personnel well. After checking into the hotel, Jordan settled into his room. He had three hours to kill until six-thirty. He decided to soak in the bathtub as soon as he took his medicine.

The warm water felt good on Jordan’s leg. The scars still reminded him of the surgeries he had undergone, three all together, not including the work the medics had done on him in the field hospital.

After leaving home, his parents and the memory of Wanda behind, Jordan had volunteered to go into the Army. Within eighteen months, he had been shipped off to Viet Nam to fight a war he didn’t understand, but would keep him away from his desires. He had served almost ten months when one day, one miserable rainy monsoon day, his squad came upon a booby trap and boom, three men were dead and four wounded. Shrapnel had sliced into Jordan’s leg and by all rights, he should have lost it.

Jordan wiped tears from his eyes as he remembered that fateful day. Medics had saved his leg and transported him to the field hospital. In any earlier war he would be dead, but advanced medical procedures had saved Jordan, but saved him for what. The bath water had cooled, so he opened the drain and worked to get out of the tub.

Some people say that you can find blessings hidden in tragedy. It was hard at first for Jordan to encompass that idea, but as he rehabbed, he attended the university. The Army had sent Jordan to California for more surgery and rehabilitation. He liked the climate and the nearby ocean. With the military paying for his education, Jordan graduated from the university with a degree in mathematics. Eventually, he had obtained a masters degree and then his doctorate. After ten years of hard work and a great deal of good fortune, he had found a new life.

Jordan and his family remained in contact, however, they never came to California and he never ventured back home. He had a new life, a new dream and a new identity. Dr. Jordan Cable was now free of any restraints in life.

At a little after six, the shuttle driver came to pick Jordan up and carry him to the reunion hall. One of the benefits of tipping well is the quick service you get in return. The drive was short but gave him time to note the many changes in the sleepy old town where he had been born. The community that he had written off as a lost cause had found new energy and was coming back to life.

The driver helped Jordan exit the van and made sure the crippled man made it safely to the front door. As he approached, Jordan saw the joyous faces of his old classmates. When he took his nametag and placed it on his ten year old suit jacket, his nerves began to attack him. He should never have come back. This is not what he wanted. All of these people, they were reuniting, still making plans for a future. Jordan had come to bury his past for a final time.

There was a lady at the service table who he remembered, but not her name. She had always been around where he and Wanda were. Oh, what was her name? Patty, Penny, Polly... yes, Polly Meads. He smiled at the recollection just as she must have realized who he was.

“Are you Jordan Cable?” Polly asked. She could have checked his nametag but she didn’t seem to think of that.

“Yes, and you are Polly Meads,” Jordan replied. “Your nametag seems to have fallen off.” Polly gave a silly laugh and waved at him as if she were amused.

“Oh, everybody knows me,” Polly said, “I don’t need a nametag.” Again, there was that irritating laugh. People could always recognize her from her laugh. “Go on over to the serving line and get something to eat. We have punch or water on the other table. Sorry, the punch isn’t spiked.” She began that laugh again and Jordan turned, attempting to hurry away as he glanced around for Wanda. Surely she would attend the reunion.

As Jordan picked up a cup of punch, he recognized some men who he had played football with and admired in school. They had been good friends and he had a flash of interest in seeing them again. He made his way over and joined the group.

“Why, Jordan, it is so good to see you,” one of the men said. They began asking questions that Jordan wasn’t interested in answering.

“Are you married, Jordan?” another asked.

“No, but I was for a short time; she couldn’t tolerate my idiosyncrasies,” Jordan answered. A trio of commiserating moans went around the group.

“What line of work did you go into?” the next man asked.

“I taught school for a while,” Jordan answered. He had been an associate professor at Stanford for the last half of his carrier, but he wasn’t here to compare his manhood with the others. The questions dissipated as the men returned to one-upping each other. Jordan listened briefly and then lost interest.

This had been a mistake. He no longer belonged here, in this place and with these people. What did he ever think he could gain from attending this reunion? He thought and the answer was quick in coming. He came for some form of resolution. No more running or longing for what he had left behind, this was his chance to end it.

Jordan smiled and eased away from his old buddies. He had accomplished what he was here for. The world he once knew was long past and it could not be resurrected. There was no corpse and no need for a funeral. He placed his empty cup in the trash receptacle and turned toward the door.

When he looked up, Jordan was looking into the face of a woman he recognized immediately, he was staring directly into the sparkling blue eyes of Wanda Southwood.

“Hello, Jordan,” the lady said. She was lovely as ever in spite of time. Her smile was gracious and her eyes welcoming.

“Hello, Wanda, how are you?” After forty-five years, all Jordan could think to say was a faint trite expression.

“I was hoping to see you here,” Wanda said softly. She stepped closer, meeting his step forward, and wondering whatever had possessed her to give credence to Polly’s spiteful assumption that this still handsome man had lost his way to the hippie culture.

“Wanda, I’m sorry... I’ve always been sorry,” he said. He wanted to hold her in his arms as he had when they were just young kids and kiss her sweet lips. The sultry sounds she made as they kissed still haunted his memory.

“Were you leaving?” Wanda asked. “It looked as if you were ready to bolt out the door.” She gave a little laugh that warmed his heart.

“I don’t know any of these old people,” Jordan quipped with a smile. “I feel much younger than these people look. Except for you, you are as beautiful as always.” He finally managed to reach out and touch her arm. He had to touch her and make sure she was real and not just another of his dreams.

“Oh, Jordan, I’ve changed, we’ve all changed,” Wanda said, “but I know what you mean. I am a stranger here as well.” She covered his hand with hers and Jordan felt the old glow of romance spring to life.

“Could we find a place to sit and talk?” Jordan asked, “There are so many things I would like to know. Not that I want to pry into your private life, but I still think of you, sometime.” Sometime, like every day and every night.

“Of course, how thoughtless of me,” Wanda said, “I bet you need to sit. Standing is hard on...”

“My leg is all right, Wanda, and you don’t need to avoid saying the word,” Jordan said with a grin. “I know I’m crippled. A doctor was kind enough to tell me years ago.” His gentle laugh put Wanda at ease and she turned slowly, taking his surprisingly familiar outstretched hand as the years melted away and he led her to an empty table.

Suddenly, it was no longer just a reunion.

* * *

story to be continued in next posting

Just A Reunion - 1

Wanda's Story

Wanda’s hands were shaking so that she was having trouble putting the key into her car’s ignition. She paused, took a deep cleansing breath and then tried again. She had spent a busy morning, packing the last of her clothes for the trip and loading the car. It was now time to begin her two-and-a-half hour drive back to her childhood hometown.

The engine came alive as Wanda closed her eyes and turned the key. She had made her decision and she couldn’t change it now. As she drove out of her comfortable and secure neighborhood and headed to the interstate, she said a little prayer.

Wanda Sherman was a widowed school teacher. Forty years teaching ninth grade English had built her a reputation of being hard and demanding. However, her older students often referred to her as the best teacher they had ever had.

Robert Sherman, her husband of thirty-eight years, had suffered a massive heart attack three years earlier and now she was alone. Yes, there had been children, two wonderful sons and a beautiful daughter, but they had families of their own and were spread across the country. It was a lonely life that Wanda now found herself living. Retired from her teaching career and widowed, she had to find a new purpose.

Wanda pulled onto the interstate and merged into the traffic. Heading east in the middle of the day had its advantages, but still the traffic was heavier than she liked and they always were going too fast. She put her foot on the brake as a pickup pulled into her lane just in front of her with out any turn signal. “Idiot!” she murmured to herself.

As soon as Wanda reached the edge of the city, the traffic eased and she became comfortable with the pace. She smiled as she passed familiar landmarks, reminding her that she hadn’t been back to her birthplace in nearly twenty years.

Wanda had been born in a small East Texas town, an only child to a young couple. Joseph and Kathy Southwood had fallen in love in high school and married soon after graduation. Joseph, Wanda’s father worked in the oil fields and provided the family with a secure, if not wealthy life. Her mother worked part time in some of the stores downtown as a saleslady.

Wanda sighed as she remembered her mother. A small woman in stature, she more than made up for her diminutive size in character. Wanda’s father was the chief breadwinner and leader of the family, but her mother tempered Joseph’s often brusque authority with her soft tone and religious determination.

Kathy Southwood had made sure the family sat in the church pew every Sunday. She also made certain Wanda did well in school. She had the foresight to see changes in the world that others thought were still generations away. By the time Wanda completed her master’s degree in education, a college education was mandatory to succeed.

Wanda took a sip from the bottle of water she had beside her. She still missed her mother and father after all these years. Kathy had passed away shortly after Wanda married, and then Joseph followed ten years later. That was her family, her core, her link to the piney woods where she was going back to visit.

Forty-five years, could it really have been that long? Graduation from high school had been such a starting point for all of her friends, young eager kids with stars in their eyes and nothing holding them back. They knew they could do anything in the world they wanted and succeed. Wanda had her vision, and she was dogmatic in obtaining her reward.

There had been only one problem in Wanda’s progression to that point. She had begun dating Jordan Cable midway through her junior year and their romance continued until graduation. Jordan was a star athlete and a good scholar. His handsome good looks along with an alluring personality made him one of the most desirable boys to date. Wanda knew Jordan had been placed on this good earth just for her, but her family insisted on her getting her education before thinking of settling down.

One month after graduation, Wanda and Jordan broke up. It was a mutual decision, but Wanda cried just the same. Somehow, even though they spoke words of friendship and promised a continued connection, she knew their lives would soon part forever. Tears burned at the back of Wanda’s eyes, trying to escape. Even after these forty-five years, a wonderful marriage and perfect children, Wanda still had a small ache in her heart when she thought of what could have been.

Wanda pulled off the highway onto the exit ramp. She was about halfway to her destination. It was a good time for a break and a cup of coffee. Maybe if she were in a crowded café for awhile she would stop becoming so melancholy. She took a seat in a booth near the front and ordered coffee and a sweet roll. Melancholy always eased with something sweet.

Her efforts to distract her mind failed as Wanda sipped her coffee. The sweet pastry was a blessing, but she continued to have a barrage of thoughts. She became angry at herself for some of the conflicts that confronted her. She and Robert had had a marriage anyone would wish for, but old lingering fantasies continued to tease her mind. What if? Yes, only, what if?

Wanda had had an opportunity to rebut her parents and accept Jordan’s marriage proposal. Her father said he didn’t want her to marry, but if she did, he would continue to support her education. Her mother was less compassionate, but Wanda knew Kathy would have helped her, too.

After returning to the interstate, Wanda tried to envision Jordan as he must be today. She knew he had married. One of her old girlfriends had told her about the wedding and the girl from out of town he had wed. But, it had been such a long time. How had he changed, where did he live and was he still married? A tingle went through her as she imagined the possibilities.

A vision came to her of a stately older gentleman with frosty white hair and round pink cheeks. No, make that tan cheeks, Jordon was an outdoors kind of man. He probably played golf everyday, now that he was retired. Wanda smiled at her fantasy mirage.

Jordan had been smart and could have gone into any number of professions. He may have become a businessman or banker, or even a salesman. With his personality he would have been great in sales. Wanda chuckled and said, “I would have bought a car or anything else from him.” The thought warmed her and her smile relaxed her face.

This was going to be a great reunion. Besides seeing her old flame, she had dozens of old girlfriends to visit with and catch up on the events of all those missing years. It is said that the closest friends you will ever have are the ones you make in school. Even with such a long void in their relationships, Wanda knew the girls would all get back into their old form. “Remember the pajama parties we used to have?” she said aloud and startled at her own voice.

Wanda looked at the speedometer and saw she was going much faster than she normally drove. She had even passed several of the cars which had passed her earlier. Was she finally in a hurry to get back to her roots? Yes, the anticipation was becoming unbearable. Wanda took a relaxing breath and reminded herself, “This is just a reunion.”

The tall trees had gotten thicker the further Wanda drove into the piney woods. Tall pine trees were mixed with the oaks as the greenery painted over the rolling landscape. She knew she was close to home now, back to the beginning. The exit for Highway 42 was one mile ahead, just a few more miles and she would be there.

The landmarks had changed, and if the big highway signs hadn’t alerted her to exit, Wanda would have driven past the once familiar road. She turned south and followed the winding road for the next three miles. Catching sight of oil derricks standing sentinel over the town’s skyline, Wanda sighed. She was home.

Wanda felt eighteen years old again, eager to see old friends. She was certain this would mark a turning point for her, a new beginning coming from an old reunion. She found the new modern hotel and claimed her reservation for the night. The party would begin at six-thirty, plenty of time to get refreshed and put on the perfect dress she had spent two days shopping for.

After getting ready and pacing as she waited for time to pass, Wanda headed to the reunion hall. It was only a few blocks from her motel and she arrived quickly. As she approached the double glass doors, Wanda saw three of her girlfriends sitting at the reception table.

Screams and waving arms followed by hugs greeted Wanda as soon as she stepped through the doors. One woman almost danced as she was overtaken with joy. All of the women looked much the same as they had in school, but much older versions. Their eyes and smiles were familiar even though their silhouettes had greatly changed.

Wanda had been shown around the room meeting new people along with her former classmates. Husbands and wives actually made the recognition process harder. Twice she had approached men who she thought she recognized only to find out they were husbands of her old girlfriends.

Wanda was having a great time, but she also kept vigil for Jordan. His name had been on the RSVP list so she knew he planned to attend. She had made a point not to mention Jordan to her friends in order to be able to back out if she wanted to. It would be hard to see him for the first time. She surveyed the room one more time but didn’t see the man she had known so well.

Polly, one of Wanda’s oldest friends, leaned close and whispered. “Did you see Jordan Cable when he came in? He’s standing over near the punch bowl.” Wanda turned and took a long look. There were four men where Polly had said. One had his back to her and the others looked familiar but she couldn’t recall their names.

“Which one?” Wanda asked. “I don’t see Jordan.” She took one more look to see if there were any distinguishing features on any of the men.

Polly almost giggled and answered, “The man leaning on the cane.” Wanda’s eyebrows rose as she realized the man who she thought least resembled Jordan was indeed him. Wanda stepped to the side so she could get a better view. The man looked shorter than she had remembered and slightly humped over. His hair was long and reminded her of Ben Franklin.

“Hasn’t he changed,” Polly injected as she also watched the old man drink from his cup. “I swear, running off to California and joining that hippie group really ruined him. I bet sex and drugs fried his brain, it certainly didn’t help his looks.” Again, Polly gave her little laugh before turning and moving over to another group of friends.

Wanda took a sip of water and thought about Jordan. Had he really given up hope for a future and gone to be a hippie? After all, it had been a time of drugs and free sex, communes and religious cults. She felt saddened as she watched the shell of the man she had imagined. She had expected more, her fantasy had promised more. With disappointment and remorse filling her, she slowly made her way to the front door. Her need for a reunion had passed.

* * *
story to be continued in next posting

A Good Time at the Fair

It is that time of year again. Fall is probably my favorite season because it brings so many wonderful things. The start of a new school year, the harvesting of crops, the changing landscape with fall colors in the trees and then the falling leaves.

I always enjoyed getting back to school and reuniting with my friends. Summers gave me the freedom I enjoyed, but I often lost contact with my close schoolmates. It took a couple of weeks to get used to my schedule and the new routine, but everything soon fell into place. Did you ever notice how pleasant and pretty the teachers were those first few weeks? By the end of the school year, they seemed to have aged and taken on a much gruffer attitude.

In our area we don’t have a great deal of farming and the crops that we do have often are harvested before the hot dry weather kills everything, but one crop we have in abundance is hay. Acre after acre of sweet grasses are grown, mowed and rolled into big bales.


When I was young, the hay was compacted in rectangular bales small enough for a man, or strong boy in many cases, to pick up and toss on a large hay wagon. Today, the hay is rolled into huge cylinders that have to be hoisted by tractors with hydraulic lifts.

We are fortunate in East Texas to have the thick forested landscape. Most of the trees are evergreens, but we also have oaks, maples, and dogwoods, to name just a few. Their leaves turn with the first frosts and dress the rolling land. Brown, gold, rusty red and other colors join with the green shades to decorate the hillsides. I have spent numerous lazy Sunday afternoons driving along the back roads admiring nature’s artwork.

Holidays and other occasions for celebration also come with the fall season. Football provides the entire family a chance to get together with friends and have fun. In recent years tailgate parties before the games have become popular activities. I have a lot of trouble though with the fall allergies and then cold weather. The older I get the harder it is to enjoy sitting out in near freezing weather.

Labor Day leads us to Halloween and then Thanksgiving and on to Christmas. We gather and eat too much, and then are forced to go on a diet to lose the resulting pounds. By the time we lose a couple of pounds, it is time for another get together. September and October also bring us our county and state fairs.

This week the crews began erecting the many rides and booths for the Gregg County Fair. I remember going as a small kid with my parents. It was exciting and frightening all at the same time with the noise and crowds. My family especially enjoyed the animals that were displayed and judged. The best animals were awarded ribbons and a chance to go to the State Fair. The food booths were also a particular favorite of ours and I can still taste the corn dogs and funnel cake.

I didn’t partake of the rides and other activities at the County Fair until I was a teenager. Unlike today, there weren’t that many different rides. It reminded me of the rides at our Halloween Carnival. This year the organizers are boasting to have the most rides in the fair’s history.

It seems to me, with my limited memory, that the local fair was only three or four days long when I first attended. Starting on Thursday, and ending either Saturday evening or perhaps Sunday afternoon. This year the officials have announced that the Gregg County Fair will be in full swing for eight days. I guess they will have more time to make a profit.

But by far, my parents loved the State Fair of Texas the most. Dad just called it The Fair. For a long time I thought Texas invented the concept of having a fair. Almost every year we would go to Dallas, rent a motel room and stay for two days. The Fair was too grand to experience everything in just one day.


Have you ever been to the fair and wandered through all of the animal stalls housing pigs, sheep, dairy cows, beef cattle, and of course the prized bulls and sleek horses? Dad had lived on a dairy farm during the depression and knew everything there was to know about the underside of a milk cow. He said he learned it first hand.

Mother liked the Women’s Building with cooking and sewing contests, displays of the latest cooking utensils as well as new revolutionary appliances. I saw a television for the first time as a man spoke before a small audience and explained how the magical box operated. Dad was skeptical that the invention would ever become popular, but he also said that the American consumer would buy any fool thing if their neighbors had one.

Everyone loved the Automobile Building. I was too young to drive, of course, but I found it was the base for many dreams as I grew older. Mother almost fainted when she saw a demonstration for an air conditioned car and felt the cool air filling the interior. Two years after that demonstration, Dad bought her a new car equipped with the best air conditioner available. The cooling unit was housed in the trunk and plastic tubes came up beside the back window and led to overhead vents.


My brother was ten years older than me, so he got to go to the Midway alone to enjoy the games and rides. My sister was stuck with me for the first two years when I was allowed to chance the rides. She tried her best to lose me in the bustling crowd, but I managed to stay close to her. Finally, one year our high school band attended Band Day, and I got to have fun without my sister chaperoning me.

After my wife and I married and started our family, we weren’t able to go very often. A couple of times my mother volunteered to babysit so we could go, but it had gotten so expensive that we had to spread out our trips and prioritize our monies. Such was the joy of working in education.

I’m not sure if we will go to the Gregg County Fair this year, but we do plan to attend The Fair. If the weather is nice and we can sneak away, we may attend on Senior Citizens Day. I like taking advantage of the reduced rates. Whether we need the help or not, I have gotten to the point where I am proud of being older and enjoy any advantages the condition affords.

So, if you go to The Fair and see an old bald-headed man walking around wide-eyed with a big awestruck grin, you can be assured that I got in at a discount and am in the throes of my second childhood. See you at The Fair.

Summer Education

At an early age, my daddy put me to work. It made it easy since he owned a construction company. I didn’t need a resume or even to fill out an application. At five-thirty in the morning, my dad shook me and said, “Come on, boy, it’s time to get going.”

I was fourteen years old that summer, and for the next several summers I would get going before the sun and work all day in the hot summer weather. There weren’t all of the laws and restrictions back then. Today, a company wouldn’t allow a young kid even to ride in one of the big trucks or especially to climb on top of a tank battery and paint.

I guess you could say I was blessed, although I didn’t think of it as a blessing at the time. Work in the East Texas oil field was hard and demanding. Being the boss’s son didn’t help with my coworkers, either. They were either afraid to be around me or else they would make my row just a little harder to plow.

One exception to that behavior came when I was sixteen. I had had enough experience to know my way around and most of the regular workers knew me as well. One old man in particular seemed to be laboring beside me much of the time that year. Whether we were pouring concrete or digging a foundation, Lester was there.

I learned a lot from the old black man. He was about fifty years old, pretty old to a teenager. Where I would go out in the morning and work as hard and as fast as I could to get the job done, he found a steady pace and maintained it. I took frequent water breaks while he continued to dig in the hard soil.

In some ways Lester reminded of my granddaddy. He would hum or mumble out a soulful tune as he drudged along. Oh, yes, another thing I need to mention, Lester would take his false teeth out while he worked. Man, it wasn’t a pretty sight when he laughed or called out hallelujah, but he never failed to put a smile on my face.

I think one reason I liked Lester so much was because he accepted me as his equal. To him I wasn’t the boss’s son, nor did he think of me as a rich white boy. I was his coworker and that was that. At the end of the day, I was dirty and as dark as him, or maybe he had become as light skinned as me. I didn’t really think about it; it wasn’t an issue.

It wasn’t until the end of the workday that our lives went in different directions. I would go get into my new car, turn on the air conditioner and spin the tires as I hurried home. Lester, on the other hand, gathered his weathered lunch pale and started his walk from near Laird Hill to the other side of town.

For weeks I never noticed. I was a carefree teen, after all. But one day, I stayed to lock the gates for my dad, and that is when I learned that Lester lived in a different world. After closing and securing the gates, I got into my car and headed home. About a mile up the road, not quite to the intersection where I turned to go to the nicer part of town, I saw Lester walking. His slow pace was familiar as he went along.

Something gave me cause to pull to the side of the road and wave for my friend to come get in. His open-mouth smile was warming as he hurried to the passenger door. He looked like he had won the sixty-four thousand dollar quiz. He opened the door, got in and slurred out a gummy thank you.

“Where you heading, Lester?” I asked.

“I’m going to Miss Beulah’s place, Mr. Dan,” he said. “I stays there most of the time. You don’t have to take me all the way there though, just let me out where you need to.” Of course I planned to take him where he needed to go. I couldn’t let him out and go on without worrying about him.

“You point the way then,” I said and pulled back onto the highway. We drove into the main part of town and then crossed over the railroad tracks. I noticed Lester holding his cap over the air-conditioner vent, so I turned down the fan speed to accommodate my friend.

“Miss Beulah lives on the highway past Cedar Top, you know where that be?” Lester asked. Cedar Top was the colored section of town. I knew where it was but also knew better than to go there.

“You think it’s safe for me to go back in there?” I asked. Like I said, I was young and this was back in the sixties.

“Sure, Mr. Dan, we colored folks don’t cause no harm,” Lester said. I drove on, not completely convinced that he was telling the truth. We came to a turn off onto a dirt street that led back to several small shotgun houses. Lester pointed to the last house and I pulled up by the front door.

“Come see my garden,” Lester said as he searched for the door lever. I had heard many a story about Lester’s garden. From the tales he told you would think he had a twenty acre farm. I got out of the car and followed him to the back of the frame house.

“This be my squash and I got melons on the back side. Da beans grows on the fence and I gots turnip greens over here.” Lester danced around his small garden as he proudly showed me his collection. He had turned the soil by hand and planted every seed. I was too young to fathom the pride the old man had, but I could tell it made him happy to show it off to me. To me, his friend.

After we inspected the green garden, Lester showed me to his back porch, or rather Miss Beulah’s back porch, where he offered me the metal rocking chair. It was the nicest chair in his collection. He sat on a wooden keg with a piece of cardboard over the top.

We visited like long lost friends, he told me about Miss Beulah and their living arrangement. I learned a lot on that old porch. Lester offered me a beer, my first, and I sipped it with pride along side my equal.

I tell you this story for a couple of reasons. One, as a young boy you can find friendship from many surprising places. Also, I think it points out that we are all minorities and can find ourselves separated from the larger group. The older field hands isolated me to some extent, isolating me from their friendship. Lester was the one soul who bonded with me. He was the lone black man working in the crew and he was the one who knew my plight better than anyone else.

I visited with Lester several more times that summer, sitting on his back porch, sipping a cold one while he smoked and shelled peas. He introduced me to a world I would probably never have known if it weren’t for him and our unusual friendship.

Before the next summer arrived, Lester was laid to rest in the colored cemetery. I was the only white person in attendance at the graveside service. Miss Beulah cried with deep anguish and it hurt me to my core. Lester had been killed in a senseless shooting less than a block from his home.

Lester, I still remember those hot summer afternoons and wish you were here to share this story. If you can hear me know, have a cold one on Mr. Dan.