“We must always tell what we see. Above all, we must always see what we see.”
Charles Peguy, French poet, essayist (1873-1914)
Two weeks into fall and walking across the yard feels like walking on potato chips. Most of the wild black cherry tree leaves have turned their autumn shade of red and fallen to the ground. I lost hope in keeping up the watering. A whole month of no rainfall, and what we wouldn’t give for just a little bit. The wildflowers have long since gone to seed and the dry sticks are the only remains. Soon I’ll cut the sticks and leave them lying on the ground for the birds, and for the remainder to reseed for next year.
Sam reminds me cool days will come soon. Momma always said you can count on cooler days when the State Fair comes. So now we’re about half way through the State Fair dates. It opened Oct. 2 and runs through Oct. 14. Momma was mostly right about everything, so a little cool should be creeping in. Don’t be surprised if it’s not settled in by the end of the week.
The State Fair brings back memories. The fair meant carnival rides — tilt-a-whirl, roller coasters and Ferris wheels. The tilt-a-whirl was my favorite, as I preferred staying connected to the ground. The one time I rode a Ferris wheel I promised God if he’d get me off, I’d never get on one again, and I never did.
The fair meant game winnings — a big teddy bear or plastic do-dads. It meant cotton candy, caramel apples and lemonade. It also meant entertainers. Once, walking through the livestock tent, I wandered over by the hogs. A man walked over, placed his hands on the rail and looked at the hogs. I saw a big gold ring on his hand with the initials JD. I looked up into the face of John Davidson, the singer, actor and entertainer that year. My first famous person sighting, and I was maybe 10 years old.
Thinking of that day brought back memories of other famous people sightings and my predictable reaction of silence. There was Academy Award-winning actress Lee Remick in the 1980s. I had wandered off again and walked up the 87 steps to the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. It was winter and desolate; she came down wearing a full-length, honey-colored fur. She paused and smiled, then rode away in a limousine. She was beautiful.
Then a few others with the same scenario — awe, silence, a pleasant memory. Then there was a few weeks ago when I drove over to Mossy Oak in West Point to buy Sam some camouflage pants. It was early morning, and I appeared to be the only shopper until I slightly noticed a man near the exit. Leaving, I stopped, did a double-take and said, “Are you who I think you are?” with all the awe of a school girl.
He grinned, looked down and chuckled. After a brief conversation and my effusive praise, I walked away from Mississippi State’s Girls’ Basketball Coach Vic Schaefer. I immediately texted Sam, guess who I saw? He never guessed.
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