Saturday morning I found myself in Hazlehurst doing an interview for the upcoming issue of Mature Living magazine. When I arrived at my destination, the sky was overcast and a fine mist was falling, creating a hazy view through my windshield. As most of you know unless you’ve been comatose for the last month and a half, it’s been a bit damp in these here parts, so I was completely undaunted by a fine mist. Grabbing my notes, my pen, and my camera, I headed inside. For the next hour or so, I sat with some old friends and chatted about the good old days among other things, making notes for an article as we talked.
We were paying no attention to the weather at all, not that paying attention would have changed anything. As we enjoyed mentally strolling down streets from another era, that fine mist outside changed to something more ferocious.
Winding up the visit, I gathered my things and started for the door; the rain was falling in such torrents that I could barely see my car parked just outside, much less reach it without getting soaked. Everyone searched for umbrellas, but to no avail. Mine, of course, was in my trunk. Someone handed me a Jeff Davis Ledger to protect my hair, which I gladly accepted, but it didn’t help much. I had locked the keys in the car and had to use the key pad to open the door. I stood in the pouring rain, haphazardly balancing my materials on one arm and tapping numbers with the other. Soaked, I finally fell into the car, but I had managed to protect my camera and notes. All was well. I’d discovered years ago that I won’t melt.
To see the entire column pick up your copy of The Baxley News-Banner on newsstands today or CLICK HERE to Subscribe.