As I write, it is the peak for fall colors in Union County and the surrounding area. This sun-filled weekend has in particular been glorious. Driving to church with the light filtering through the changing colors was like being surrounded by natural stained glass fashioned by God himself.
Fall has always been my very favorite season of the year. Not only are the turning leaves beautiful and the season mellow, it is a time to meditate about how nature foretells the life cycle. While spring is a rebirth and summer the peak of life, fall notes the last breath of life in beautiful color before the dearth of winter. Fall is also a time to reflect on the accomplishments or lacking of the first half of the year, a time to make preparation for the cold of winter while waiting for the next rebirth.
The recent death of a friend gave me pause to think back to the summers of my younger days. For several summers during my high school and undergraduate college years I worked for Union County’s Summer Youth Program. Union County School Board Member Esco Vaughn directed the program in Union County. I remember it always being a fun time, a great way to earn a few dollars and make some new friends.
The first summer I worked I was assigned to the Union County Senior Citizens Center, then directed by Dottie D. Ousley. My crew’s particular assignment that year was to paint the entire interior of the center, bathrooms included. We used a lot of tape and wet cloths, but we managed to have a lot of fun and get acquainted with several of the senior citizens (I remember in particular Kelly Adkins, B. D. and Maude Haynes, Versa Capps, Pauline Smith, Anna Lewis, Harlan “Ben” and Kathleen Bennett, Ms. Laura Proffitt and her daughter Grace, Vergie Brantley, so many others). Believe it or not, our crew even managed to get more of the paint on the walls than on ourselves or the floors. We were slow—it took us six weeks to paint the entire center, but Ms. Ousley was so pleased that she had Jean Richardson Neely, who also worked at the center, take our crew to the old Duff’s Smorgasbord for the all-you-can-eat buffet. What a treat that was!
There was another summer that I worked for Esco Vaughn in his “office”, located in the high school office. I think that was the summer following my freshman year at LMU. I was particularly happy to go to work that summer, for I was paired with a gorgeous blonde, a fellow graduate of the Horace Maynard High School Class of 1983. One of the friends I made who worked on the high school crew (and of whom I will speak more below) intimated to me in the “guy” language of the time that I could develop a relationship with the blond if I wanted to (trust me, he worded it much plainer and cruder). Oh, yes, the temptation, even if imagined, was sweet, but I had a college sweetheart to whom I planned to remain faithful. Unfortunately, the college sweetie didn’t work nearly as hard at being faithful to Yours Truly, so perhaps I did miss a golden opportunity. My favorite memory of my blond fellow graduate from that summer was her singing to me exclusively the entirety of Tammy Wynette’s “D I V O R C E”. There are not many other things in this life that have caused my heart to melt like that blond singing that song just for me!
I remember another summer when I was assigned to the Senior Citizen’s Center, again to paint the entire facility. This time I was assigned with a crew of three others, two girls and another fellow. The fellow was one of those types who was high on the charm but not so much work ethic. Ol’ “LG” practically slapped the paint to the walls and any other surface available (even if it wasn’t supposed to be painted). I spent that summer following L.G. with a wet cloth and a mop. I didn’t hardly touch a brush or roller that year, other than to catch the slops and drips before they could harden on the wall. Whereas the first summer it took six weeks to paint the center, we were through in two weeks this time around. Ms. Dottie was not as happy with our crew this year, so we were reassigned to the high school for the remainder.
I wound up back in Esco Vaughn’s office, but I did get to interact with the high school crew. Mark Roberts was principal at the time, and he was having the high school crew take up the old dark green hallway tile that was original to the school some thirty-five or so years before. I don’t know what the tool was called, but it was a kind of scraper on a long pole (I think custodians usually used it to scrape gum from the floors). The roof of the old high school (the present middle school) leaked more often than not, and the tile’s glue had loosened from the floor. All of us got our chance to take the tool and run it up under a tile. It was really fun, especially when we made a sport of seeing who could tear up the most tyle in a single run. There was no prize, just the thrill of victory. No one expressed the least concern that we were working barehanded in asbestos without a mask to keep us from breathing the black dust that swirled all around us.
A most memorable event happened one afternoon. I was working in Esco’s office, and the high school boys’ crew had been assigned to clean the fence row in front of the cafeteria. Esco announced to those of us working in his office that he would be out of the rest of the day. About thirty minutes before the work day ended some of the boys came and told me that one of the fellows was drunk (this is the same one who advised me earlier about my chances with the blond). “LG” and I went down to see what was up, and we met two boys leading our drunken employee through the front doors.
I went up and said, “G”, what’s wrong with you?”
“I found me some beer in that ---- gully down there,” he replied.
I asked, “You didn’t drink it, did you G?”
Drunk though he obviously was, he looked at me and his mouth fell open. “---- right, I drunk it!”
The best I remember, it seems that during lunch the high school boys’ work crew managed to use some of their hard earned money to purchase a fair quantity of beer. To help themselves with the ordeal of having to clean that overgrown fence row on that hot summer day, they comforted themselves with the spirits. G either was not good at holding his beer or imbibed more than his fair share, as he was the only boy that was noticeably intoxicated.
LG and I each took one of G’s arms over a shoulder and led G up the hall. He kept talking about nonsensical things. At this point I am reminded of the time I watched a movie about Tammy Wynette. Tammy had just gone through a traumatic career and marital separation from George Jones. At her first solo appearance, the audience kept hollering, “Where’s George?” One of Tammy’s band members stepped to the mic and said, “We don’t know where George is. ----, George don’t know where George is!”
At this point I’m not sure that G knew any more about his whereabouts than did
George, though he had enough lucidity left to say, “Boy’s, where’s Esco? Don’t let Esco see me.” We painfully walked G the long way back to the office, making all attempts to avoid the absent Esco. G suddenly stopped right in the middle of the hall, patted both me and LG on our burdened shoulders (G was a good-sized boy!) and breathed into our faces, “You know what? You two boys is the best ---- boys they is.”
We finally got G to the office where he sprawled out over the counter. The next morning Esco received a visit from G’s dad who wanted to know how he sent his boy to work sober and got him back home that afternoon drunk. I never did know exactly how Esco managed to handle that one.
Ah, the pleasant days of the Summer Youth Program. All the senior citizens mentioned above, Esco, and some of my coworkers are deceased. I haven’t seen most of the co-workers I remember from the program since. Yet in the shelves of my mind I am only a thought away from the feel of those carefree days and the camaraderie of young friends filled with hope for the future.
I part with a few thoughts from the email world:

To some folks, "drink responsibly" means don't spill it.

The Hennessy Liquor inventor died at 98.

When you are dissatisfied and would like to go back to youth,
think of Algebra.

"You can only be young once, but you can always be immature.”
– Louisiana Sen. John Kennedy

"He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp-posts...
for support rather than illumination."
-Andrew Lang (1844-1912)

The Number One Thing That You Will Never Hear a Southern Boy Say:
Nope, no more beer for me. I'm driving a whole busload of us down
to help in the Temperance Society Campaign.