Between Friday and Monday, The Fletcher Lesson

Between Friday and Monday, The Fletcher Lesson… No matter what face we try to put on maybe we’re all in the same class regardless. I grew up in rural Spotsylvania County, Virginia during the 60’s and early 70’s. To stretch the dollar, our father would take us to Fletcher’s Second Hand Store in the Post Oak area, not too far from Lake Anna. As a kid, I loved going to Fletcher’s because sometimes I would find an old 45 record or a pair of tennis shoes that wasn’t worn out too bad. Going to Fletcher’s was a good thing to me, but for some people, I later learned, it was something that was shunned upon. Looking back, I had an experience one particular weekend that taught me a valuable lesson about people and classes we are often mistakenly (and sometimes naively) placed into. There was a girl in my class who wore nice clothes and would speak in a friendly way to everybody at school. On Friday we said hi to each other, but the next day, on Saturday, that one moment at Fletcher’s taught us both something we didn’t fully understand or realize about ourselves, and when Monday morning came, back at school, we both knew that our lives and the way we look at things would be different from that point on. There I was near the Boy’s shoe section, checking the shoe sizes when all of a sudden, I look up and catch a quick glimpse of my classmate. She was with her mother a short distance away browsing through a rack of girl’s colorful dresses. We both would remember this brief moment at Fletcher’s for the rest of our lives. It was extremely awkward. I noticed her trying to avoid making direct eye contact with me. I was confused. And then came a rapid, quick look that was clearer. I wasn’t totally sure but her eyes were telling me to never speak about this moment, ever. Throughout our school years in Spotsylvania we shared plenty of classes together. At first, there was this awkward silence and weird facial expressions whenever we would see each other, but later, as we attended Spotsylvania Jr. High, she and I would have deeper conversations about that awkward moment at Fletcher’s. We became good friends all the way up to our junior year of high school when she and her family left Virginia and moved away out West. Over the years, we both definitely have learned more about ourselves and true friendship, and not just about the ills of society. Through the years our friendship has grown stronger. During the early stages when I was starting to take a more serious approach to writing, I remember telling her how I was having a real hard time dealing with a rejection letter which I’d recently received from a big publishing house. About a week later, I received this elegant-looking plaque in the mail from her which read, ‘Follow the path where your dreams may take you’. (I still have this plaque) We never know who maybe in need at any given moment. Our neighbors could be at the local soup kitchen getting a free meal, and because we rarely say hello to the people on our street, we may never know about their visits to get a decent, hot meal. Whenever I see the long row of cars lined up for bags of groceries at some of the local food pantries and Churches in my neighborhood, I think about that brief moment on that Saturday morning at Fletcher’s all them years ago. Since then I’ve learned not to make quick assumptions about anybody anywhere. Regardless of income level or race, never be ashamed of how you stretch the dollar. Life can be rough at times but having true friends can make it easier. As time goes by, it’s nice to have good friends touching base with you every now and then. My friend now lives in the Big Sky state of Montana. She tells me that the best part of her day is sitting on the porch watching deer grazing peacefully at the shrubbery around her front yard. And me, well, I currently reside in Iowa but I’ll always be that country boy from the backwoods of Virginia, still growing, still learning. Have a safe and enjoyable summer, EVERYONE! – Randolph Randy Camp More at https://www.amazon.com/author/randolphcamp