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Betty’s Week

By Betty Shearer

 Lack of patience can get you and fellow drivers killed. Last Wednesday, shortly after five, as I was headed home on 315. I came to the bypass and we had a lot of traffic—more than usual.

    There were five vehicles visible in the south bound lane, three in the north, three coming from the west on 315, and I was at the head of the line going west on 315, behind me was a pick-up, then a red SUV, and three more vehicles. If a car is visible in the south bound lane on the bypass and I’m headed west, my common sense tells me that I don’t need to cross until that lane is clear.

    You have to judge the distance of vehicles in the north bound lane. With five coming I was not moving no matter how much the person behind me blew their horn. Well this person in the red SUV decided that she wanted to risk her life and the lives of the rest of us so she passed the pick-up and me on our right and zipped across the bypass.     Then she pulled off at the Shell Station. I did not stop, because if I had recognized her (which I probably would not have) I’d have been tempted to give her a thorough scolding. A few minutes is not worthy rising your life and the lives of others.

  As most of you know, I recently got into trouble at this intersection being just as careful as I possible could be.


  I had a most enjoyable weekend. The Crowder class of 1955 celebrated our 55-year reunion. On Friday night I hosted a gathering of only our class members and spouses at the Cole home in Pope. We were few in number but big on fun. We ate, reminisced and just had fun for several hours. Wish I’d had a tape recorder—there’s no way I could remember all the stories that were told. Do remember a few and I’ll share them.

  One, that Classmate Dorothy Jean Wiggs Hardin , told on her and Classmate Yvonne Can-non Brown (not present) is priceless. Dorothy Jean says that if I print it Yvonne will fly out to California and kill her first then she’ll come after me—well I’ll take my chance. Now before I start this story, let me assure you that these two ladies are tee-totalers. This is reported to be the only drinking they ever did. Story goes that Yvonne’s boyfriend had made her mad, so she decided to get him back. To do this she got a beer from a neighbor—at the time they were living in an apartment probably in Kentucky. Having gotten the beer, Yvonne took a sip and made the face that goes with drinking this awful stuff. She then handed it to Dorothy Jean, who did the same. Dorothy Jean said this went on for several, very small sips, with the question each time of “Do you feel anything?”

    After a short time there was a knock on their door and Yvonne was sure it was her brother, Wilbur, who also lived in this apartment building. Dorothy Jean opened the door, closing it a little, and reported that it was the boyfriend.

     “Hide the beer,” came the command. This was done, the boyfriend went to, because she married someone else and Dorothy Jean said all they every felt was nausea. Her hindsight was, “Why did we need to hide our beer, we were both legal drinking age and our Mom’s, who would have done the killing, were both in Mississippi and the boyfriend had no power.” She continued, “And were we not stupid thinking we were spiting him by drinking that awful tasting stuff?”

  Paul Mack, our long lost classmate, is back and he is in fine form – Just as funny as he was in school. Paul was out of our lives for almost 50 years. He says that when he meets folks he’s not seen in such a long time, the first question is what have you done or what are you doing now. His answer, “Not much since I stoped dealing dope.” I sure he loves the expressions he gets when this comes out, especially from the older friends and church members. His mother was a minister. Actually Paul was a crane operator—or that’s his story – in Texas I think.

  We finally came up with most of our teachers—all the elemetary except Paul and I disagree on one. I say our third grade teacher was Miss Crowell and he maintains that it was Miss Blackwood. No one else will get into this disagreement. When Paul and I parted company Friday, that was the last question asked. On Saturday it was the first and the last—we’re at a standoff.

  On Saturday night we had 13 of the living 19 class members present. It was so great seeing all of them.

  On this night we were joined by the classes of ‘56 and ‘57 and this is like seeing some of our younger siblings—our school was actually that close, just one big happy family. Our only teachers present were Nannette and Bill Sissell (Out The Mudline Columnist), who taught many of us.


  In addition to the reunion, Bo, Jimmie and I put up corn on Friday—they did most of it. They had it all shucked, silked and cut off when I arrived. I did get to cook it. Then on Saturday, we put apples in the freezer. These apples came off of Bill’s tree and they are the best tasting apples I’ve ever eaten.


  More good eating came my way Monday. Alexe van Beuren of B.T.C. Old Fashioned Grocery Store came in to pay her bill and brought me some Georgia peaches, which she sells in her store, and some carmel corn. I’ve been so busy that I have not been down to check out this store. Got to make time though, because I’ve got to have more of these peaches. I remember when Uncle Frank (Mom’s brother) and Aunt Marie lived in Atlanta they brought peaches every summer. I’d forgotten just how good they were.     Peaches are my favorite fruit—Uncle Frank would call me “Peaches” because I ate so many. He was a wonderful uncle—he’d even peel them for me.

  Can’t wait to visit this store and see what else is waiting for me there. Thanks, Alexe.

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