feel bad. Your birthday has turned into an awful mess.”
Right then it seemed like the storm suddenly got worse. The sky sprang to life with staccato flashes of white light, and the thunder kept a sustained rumble overhead. For a few moments, I just stared out at the storm, then I turned to Patricia, lifted my plastic cup and said, “I can’t think of a better celebration. How many men can say they spent their fifty-third birthday living their dream? Not many. No, Baby, I’m having a great birthday!”
After the miner told us what he thought of Uniontown, we decided to by pass it. We would meet Suzanne and Spot in Morganfield.
“You aren’t going to Uniontown?”
She was a thin woman with white hair, and when she asked that question she was leaning out the driver’s window of a mini-van on the outskirts of Morganfield.
Her name was Margaret and she was insistent. “But you’ve got to come to Uniontown!”
“Why?”
“It’s the most wonderful old river town in the world. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. It has the best people. You’ll love it. I have an extra bedroom and your donkey can stay in the yard.”
After I told Margaret we had already made plans to rendezvous with Suzanne in Morganfield, she said “Then after your friend leaves, you can come to Uniontown.”
“Well, it really is out of our way. And–”
A desperate whine was in her voice. “Oh, please.”
“We’ll see.”
Morganfield was a pretty little town of 4,000 people. Most of the homes were old Victorian or Queen Anne style houses, surrounded by manicured lawns with huge hardwood trees. The downtown buildings were mostly red brick, and looked like they had been built in the early 1800s. The miner was right. Morganfield would be a great place to rendezvous with Suzanne.
She and Spot met up with us at the American Legion Park on the east side of town. In the two and a half months since we last saw him, Spot had more than doubled in size. When he first hopped out of the motor home, Spot didn’t seem to know who we were. That is, until he spotted Della. Then he went crazy running around her and us. He was obviously glad to see us, and until then, I didn’t realize how much I missed him.
That night Suzanne took us out to dinner at the Feed Mill Restaurant. When the waitress first came to the table she asked where we were from. So I gave her one of our flyers. When she brought us the check at the end of the meal she asked, “From Morganfield where you headed?”
Patricia said, “We’re going to Uniontown!”
The waitress made a face like she had just smelled something bad. “Oh, no.” With her head she motioned toward the kitchen. “We all hoped you wouldn’t say that.”
She was shaking her head as she walked away from our table.
The next day, Patricia and Suzanne took off in the motor home to explore, while I stayed in camp to do some writing. Down the hill from our campsite was a football field with water spigots. I had just filled one of our jugs, when I saw a car pull up to our camp. A woman got out and carried a cardboard box to our picnic table. When she saw me toting the jug up, the hill she waved and yelled, “Hi. Remember me? It’s Margaret from Uniontown.”
In the box were canned goods like pork and beans, corn and potted meat. She also had a couple of loaves of white bread, a cake mix, macaroni and cheese, and a box of Hamburger Helper. After she showed me what was in the box, Margaret said “I thought you guys might get hungry before you got to Uniontown.”
“I appreciate it, but we have plenty of food. I don’t know where we’d put all this stuff.”
She pulled a ten dollar bill out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Oh, you’ll find room. And I know you have room for this–don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But–”
“When do you think you’ll get to Uniontown?”
I held the bill out to her. “You don’t need to bribe us to come to Uniontown.”
She took a step backwards and laid her
Right then it seemed like the storm suddenly got worse. The sky sprang to life with staccato flashes of white light, and the thunder kept a sustained rumble overhead. For a few moments, I just stared out at the storm, then I turned to Patricia, lifted my plastic cup and said, “I can’t think of a better celebration. How many men can say they spent their fifty-third birthday living their dream? Not many. No, Baby, I’m having a great birthday!”
After the miner told us what he thought of Uniontown, we decided to by pass it. We would meet Suzanne and Spot in Morganfield.
“You aren’t going to Uniontown?”
She was a thin woman with white hair, and when she asked that question she was leaning out the driver’s window of a mini-van on the outskirts of Morganfield.
Her name was Margaret and she was insistent. “But you’ve got to come to Uniontown!”
“Why?”
“It’s the most wonderful old river town in the world. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. It has the best people. You’ll love it. I have an extra bedroom and your donkey can stay in the yard.”
After I told Margaret we had already made plans to rendezvous with Suzanne in Morganfield, she said “Then after your friend leaves, you can come to Uniontown.”
“Well, it really is out of our way. And–”
A desperate whine was in her voice. “Oh, please.”
“We’ll see.”
Morganfield was a pretty little town of 4,000 people. Most of the homes were old Victorian or Queen Anne style houses, surrounded by manicured lawns with huge hardwood trees. The downtown buildings were mostly red brick, and looked like they had been built in the early 1800s. The miner was right. Morganfield would be a great place to rendezvous with Suzanne.
She and Spot met up with us at the American Legion Park on the east side of town. In the two and a half months since we last saw him, Spot had more than doubled in size. When he first hopped out of the motor home, Spot didn’t seem to know who we were. That is, until he spotted Della. Then he went crazy running around her and us. He was obviously glad to see us, and until then, I didn’t realize how much I missed him.
That night Suzanne took us out to dinner at the Feed Mill Restaurant. When the waitress first came to the table she asked where we were from. So I gave her one of our flyers. When she brought us the check at the end of the meal she asked, “From Morganfield where you headed?”
Patricia said, “We’re going to Uniontown!”
The waitress made a face like she had just smelled something bad. “Oh, no.” With her head she motioned toward the kitchen. “We all hoped you wouldn’t say that.”
She was shaking her head as she walked away from our table.
The next day, Patricia and Suzanne took off in the motor home to explore, while I stayed in camp to do some writing. Down the hill from our campsite was a football field with water spigots. I had just filled one of our jugs, when I saw a car pull up to our camp. A woman got out and carried a cardboard box to our picnic table. When she saw me toting the jug up, the hill she waved and yelled, “Hi. Remember me? It’s Margaret from Uniontown.”
In the box were canned goods like pork and beans, corn and potted meat. She also had a couple of loaves of white bread, a cake mix, macaroni and cheese, and a box of Hamburger Helper. After she showed me what was in the box, Margaret said “I thought you guys might get hungry before you got to Uniontown.”
“I appreciate it, but we have plenty of food. I don’t know where we’d put all this stuff.”
She pulled a ten dollar bill out of her pocket and handed it to me. “Oh, you’ll find room. And I know you have room for this–don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But–”
“When do you think you’ll get to Uniontown?”
I held the bill out to her. “You don’t need to bribe us to come to Uniontown.”
She took a step backwards and laid her
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