Small Town Americana

Early this a.m. the Clog-wife and I bicycled the few blocks to the historic center of our little north central Florida town. Her destination, the city-sponsored yard sale. Mine, the old-fashioned barbershop, for a trim.

As usual the man-talk in the shop was varied and comical. Southerners love a good story and love to tell them. Since today's talkative gentleman was a law enforcement officer from one of the neighboring counties, stories centered around humorous incidents and arrests of local characters back in the days when a feller got sent home to his wife without being charged, drug busts on the I-75 corridor, and other sundry accounts that contrast today with the way it used to be. About as close to Mayberry R.F.D. as you can get these days.

At one point an old local farmer walked through the door and one barber held his hands up and exclaimed "Hold it everybody, so-and-so has just walked in, so you better put your boots on!" - meaning that the B.S. would be piling up soon.

The downtown was awash with people from far and wide looking for good deals at the yard sale. I had 3 inquiries about my old bicycle, a 1960's Western Flyer. I wasn't going to sell it. It's too fun to ride. From the yard sale I brought home 3 items that I could hold in one hand while riding the bike home: a paperback version of Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, an old yardstick advertising the W.J. Dixon Lumber Co., and a small antique vise designed to grip the edge of your workbench.

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