Some of you may remember me as a so-so sports reporter in The Cadiz Record. I was also a fair photographer, but first and foremost, all my stuff concerned us, the people of Trigg County. I thought myself a star feature writer. The star part may be in my mind only, but I’m going with it. I’ve had a few requests to write again, and write again I will. I miss going through my day looking for something to write about that others may have missed. Try doing that in complete sentences and you’ll find yourselves changing your mind about a lot of things.
I’m going to save my thoughts on the gun control craziness (and some facts that will blow the anti-gun people out of the water) until next time. We’ll also hold off the re-telling of any stories concerning me sitting on Chi curling irons with my naked butt and how I discovered I have some Ninja in me with just a hint of Pentecostal (fighting the air while speaking in tongues). This week, I just want to share a story about a guy I have worked with for many years.
This Yankee started working with me years ago as a guy that could do almost anything. Dependable? He would ask: “What time we starting?” I’d say “around seven.” At 6:15 a.m., the dogs would start barking. He would be outside waiting, drinking coffee. So I figured to ensure my beauty sleep, I’d just add 30 minutes to the start time and it worked out fine. Where you gonna find that today?
Run the clock to about six months ago. I’d stopped by his house for something or other and he told me he needed to go somewhere on Wednesday and wouldn’t be able to work. He showed me a small cyst-looking thing on his shoulder, and even though I’d probably never give such a small thing a second thought, I, of course, said “no problem.”
Some days later, after meeting with the doctors and receiving the test results, this guy comes by the house unannounced. Walks in and says how much he appreciated working with me, but he had some bad news. He went on to tell me (because I always have a long list of projects that I’ve successfully put off), that I need to get a list of things we need to get done, while he feels well enough to work. He said he also had some things to do around the house. After getting life-changing news, this is how he thinks and what he does? Me? I’d probably be gone on a pity trip to Hawaii. Not this Yankee. His concerns were for his family and his friends – even me.
You just don’t see this kind of thing every day. At least, I don’t. People crying and complaining about the way the world is treating them ... I’m used to that. I understand that.
Now here comes this old Yankee with this stuff. I thought I had it all figured out. Now I have to rethink everything I thought I knew about people. That fast-talking, hard-headed little Yankee is Ron Bryant, and I’m proud to say he’s my friend.
Monty Stagner is a columnist and can be reached by email at firstname.lastname@example.org.