Brief, But Not Short……

Joe Galloway was a preacher’s son. He showed up in the third grade. As a newcomer with a tad of sense and some travel experience he stood out like a sore thumb among the hum drum of our small town existence. The fact that he liked baseball and was very outgoing didn’t hurt him any either.

We quickly became friends. Mom even let me go to the Methodist Church on occasion to hear his dad preach. They lived in a two story house over on Paris Street. We played ball and chase in that big yard out front. Joe was among us for a year, maybe two…..then he moved on.

We didn’t do anything earth shattering together. I enjoyed his quick wit and his ready smile. I worried and brooded. He laughed and enjoyed. I could be too serious. If he ever was, I am hard pressed today to remember it. I think we both learned from each other.

I haven’t forgotten him. He played a role in my development. And, however brief our time together was, I thank him for it.

Our lives are filled with “one hit wonders”. Those folks that slide by not unlike the proverbial ships passing in the night; yet, they manage to touch us so as to leave a lasting impression. I suppose that “touch” could be either good or bad. If I experienced any of the latter they are definitely a distant memory.

Millicent Blackburn appeared when we were in junior high. Her grandmother lived in that blue house on Magnolia Avenue, just down from Kee’s little corner store. I kissed her right on the mouth out on the front porch. And I think she kissed me back! I remember Percy Faith’s “Theme From A Summer Place” drifted out of the house as we sparked.

It was not a lasting love affair. I can’t even remember how I got to her porch that night.

Or what was said or done that led to the kissing stage. I’m sure she has long forgotten that summer evening. But it is one of those moments stuck forever in my memory bank. I thank her for it.

And I might have tried again! But she moved back to Jackson or Bolivar or someplace before we got to high school. But every time I hear ole Percy cranking out “Theme From A Summer Place”…….

I met Gene Speoti at Boys State the summer before my senior year. He was such a fine person and a tremendous athlete. Boys State lasted for a week; young men from all across the state came together to take part in classes on government, citizenship, patriotism, etc. I think the idea here was to lead us to “go back home and lead others”. We had races, ballgames and swimming competition as part of the program.

Gene was from Memphis. I was about as country as they come. You talk about opposite ends of the spectrum! We were about equal (ok, he might have been a little better) when it came to hitting a baseball, throwing a football or free styling it down the lanes. Neither of us would give up, give in nor admit defeat. We went at it tooth and toenail for one solid week!

You’d think the rivalry would have made us enemies. He was too much of a gentleman for that! If I won he’d shake my hand, look me right in the eye and congratulate me. But he’d also say, “You just wait till we get on the basketball court.”

When he waxed me on said basketball court I shook his hand and looked him right in the eye and congratulated him. We didn’t do that back home. He taught me more than the Boys State “paid professionals” by a whole heap….. I thank God for sending Gene Speoti my way.

I never saw him after the week ended. I did follow his football career at Catholic High School through the Memphis papers. And over the years I’ve had the privilege and honor of meeting many worthy foes on various fields of competition. I have tried so hard to win graciously……and lose in like manner……

I was hustling up Interstate 40 trying to get back to college before dark when my 1963 Corvair quit on me. I raised the hood and discovered the pulley on the alternator had come apart. The snow started falling before I could kick the tire, slam the door or curse my ill luck. The man had the big Buick stopped and was almost along side of me before I saw him, “Trouble son?”

How perceptive I thought! But I was in no position to be sarcastic. Joe Galloway would have been laughing. The man took one look and said, “Let’s ride up the road a-ways. It’s too cold for you to wait here. We’ll find a service station and gets some help.”

It better be cheap help! I had all of eleven dollars on me. The man was well dressed and surely had some place to be. But he seemed to enjoy the small talk and he was very interested in my university experiences. We found a station, and miracle of all miracles, they had a Corvair pulley! Ten dollars and they even loaned me a 5/8 inch wrench to fix it with!

The Buick man drove me back down to my car, helped me put it on and asked if I had enough money to make it on to school. I promised him I did. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived. He gave me, a perfect stranger, on a cold, miserable, snowy afternoon over two hours of his time without hesitating……

I didn’t even get his name. But I’ve never done an act of kindness in the ensuing forty years without thinking about him. I am so thankful that he touched my life.

I could go on but you get the point. One hit wonders! Those who cross our paths but for a brief instance and then are gone! And yet, their mere passing wrought a lasting impact! Do you reckon there are folks out there who are going to remember us……..

Respectfully,

Kes