A STORY WORTH TELLING
BY LEON ALDRIDGE
“It’s a small world.
And the older I get, the smaller it gets.”
— Attributed to my long-time friend and sage, Oscar Elliott. 1947 — 2016
“Think we’ll see someone we know,” a traveling friend always asks when we venture out of town.
“Naw,” I always say.
“Bet you a dollar,” my friend always challenges me.
My record is zero for however many dollars I’ve wagered. I always lose.
The odds of crossing paths with someone you know, that small-world coincidence, came up at coffee last week.
“That’s uncanny,” one of the coffee-drinking cohorts remarked. We had already worn out the big natural gas outage in Center the weekend before and moved on to other topics. Like how crossing paths with people you used to know makes the world seem smaller.
“Like you,” one of the caffeine addicts tossed in my direction, “You peg geographical references for most Texas towns by the name of the newspaper there. And names of people there you’ve worked with.”
A group of us were playing that game one night at a Texas Press convention social gathering some years ago. As the exchange of stories among friends peaked, Suzanne Bardwell, late wife of Gladewater Mirror publisher and friend, Jim Bardwell, declared, “I’m going to print bumper stickers that say, ‘Honk if you know Leon Aldridge.’” We all laughed.
I still regard that as an honor coming from Suzanne. Her reach of friends and influence in press circles far exceeded mine.
That big natural gas outage in Center last week reminded me of another small-world scenario a few years back. When the newspaper group for which I worked at the time acquired the Tribune up in my hometown of Mount Pleasant. Calls and visits from old hometown acquaintances were frequent that first week, but one call caught me off guard. A Center voice now living in Mount Pleasant.
“Marshall Waldrup,” I said. “How are you and what are you doing in Mount Pleasant?”
Marshall was the manager of the local Entex Gas office during my first stint in Center as publisher when the paper was still the “East Texas Light.”
Back when utility companies had local offices. With real people customers could talk to.
Marshall filled me in on retiring to Mount Pleasant. Then we laughed about the time in Center, around the mid-1980s, when I jumped into the deep end of home ownership and bought a swimming pool. When checking the boxes to commence pool construction, a heater to keep the chill off in early spring was “a must.”
“It’s going to take a couple of days to get the water up to a comfortable temperature,” said the pool company crew upon completion.
“No problem,” I thought. “We’re going out of town for a long weekend. Should be just right when we get back.” And just right it was. By Sunday afternoon, we were living the “American dream,” enjoying a heated swimming pool in our backyard. A few weeks later, I awoke from that dream when Marshall came into the newspaper office looking for me. “I wanted to come tell you this personally,” he said quietly as we sat down.
He handed me my gas bill and said, “I didn’t want to just mail it to you. I was afraid it might shock you.” Sharing that he had sent gas company meter reader and technician Hugh Gambill over to double check my meter, he said, “Hugh didn’t find any problems, so I was wondering if you have made any changes in your equipment or gas appliances. Something big? He noticed you’ve added a swimming pool.
Is it by chance heated?”
“How bad is it,” I asked before looking. Marshall said nothing. I looked.
“Seven hundred and fifty dollars,” I gasped.
Thoughts of a second job or a second mortgage on the house raced through my mind. He must have seen the fear in my eyes. “We can extend that over two or three months,” Marshall said.
“You don’t have to pay it all in one month. That’s the other reason I came over here personally.”
The heated pool was nice that Spring. I remember because it was also the only time we used it.
It took time, but cold pool water in the Spring wasn’t that bad. And we were also never again shocked by a gas bill equaling what was at that time, probably a couple of house payments.
I thought about Marshall today. He would have been busy the last two weekends.
First, to restore the citywide natural gas outage in the Center. And again, this week, when Ol’ Man Winter blew into town, grabbing East Texas in an icy grip.
I also thought about my swimming pool story.
And that if I still had one, it would still be unheated. And, I thought of another of Oscar’s old sayings that is still true. The one about “No matter where you go, there you are.” To which I can add only that he would be right.
And that wherever you are, you are likely to see someone you know.
I’ll bet you a dollar.
