Sometimes
you need to get out of town to find what you want.
So you take a road trip.
However,
your big city ways may be an obstacle to finding what you desire.
You may have to change. How this might happen becomes clear in . . . (Or in briefer poetic form, “Finding The Gal
Of his Dreams—With Rhyme and Reason,” the poem that follows the short story.)
Finding The Gal Of His Dreams
One day, he
appeared out of nowhere in our small, rural Texas town. He got out of a new,
black Lexus touring car, which glowed in the light of the late afternoon sun.
Dressed in spiffy clothes from head to toe, he looked like a movie star. Heads
turned as he meandered through our tiny business district. I wondered why he’d
come here.
He saw me standing
in front of McNealy’s General Store and ambled toward me. I stared at him in
awe. I couldn’t find the words to address him, so he began the conversation.
And when he did, my small town upbringing turned upside down.
“My dear chap, let
me take this opportunity to introduce myself to you. My name is Tobias
Augustine Barrett III, from New York City, a man of pride and passion, too.
“And who pray tell
most worthy fellow, poised in front of this fine store, might you be? One could
not help notice your caring attitude for your community as your inquiring eyes
perused me.”
His fine
speech caught me off guard. I may have gone to college in the city, but, in
some ways, I still talk country. I stuttered as I spoke. “Uh, I’m, uh, Robert
Bell, Jr., but you can call me Bobby.”
“Well,
Bobby, what is your function, the craft or endeavor in which you engage? Or, to
put it in a more straightforward way, how might you earn your wage?”
Still
uncomfortable with this stranger, I stammered, “Uh, uh, I’m the town marshal.”
Staring at
me with a somewhat confused look on his face, he ran his eyes up from the tip
of my toes to the top of my head and then down again. His bewildered look
didn’t disappear. He spoke again in a highfalutin manner.
“As I
peruse your person, I do not see, on any part of your dress, a sign that
indicates you are the law in this town on this day. This perplexes me a bit, as
I have great respect for legal authority and wonder why your badge is not
clearly on display.”
I became
uncomfortable with his observation. Twitching a bit, I bent my head to scan my
clothes. To my surprise, I couldn’t find my badge. Dumbfounded, I muttered,
“Sir, I don’t know where my badge is. Could’ve sworn I put it on this morning.”
I began to tremble. I’d never behaved like this before. I’m a strong lawman, .
. . not a wimp. But this elegant gentleman made me feel weak.
He smiled.
“No matter. For the moment, let us say we are in agreement. You are the town’s
legal presence, the man in command. Therefore, I must ask your indulgence in
listening to the proposal I put forth and please do your best to understand.”
“Well,
yeah, I’ll try. I’m a good listener. Townsfolk trust me. Been doing this job
for near on twenty years. What’s this proposal you’re talking about?”
He looked
me straight in the eye. His penetrating stare unnerved me. Then, he spoke. “It
has been over five years since my wife died and I have been grieving ever
since. Not a day goes by that I do not shed a tear. However, it is my worst
nightmare to live out my life alone, to have nobody with whom to share my hopes
and dreams. This is my biggest fear.”
“Yeah, I
can understand that. I’ve never been married. Still looking. Guess I never
found someone who could put up with the likes of me. I’m not a bad sort. But
I’m set in my ways. I met one gal, about three years ago. Liked her a lot.
Guess I’m getting a bit off track. You don’t want to hear my story, do you?”
He ignored
me and continued. “I have decided to put my grieving behind me, put my affairs
in order, go out in the world, and get on with my life. I made a list of what I
needed to do and each item now has been checked off in a precise manner, except
one— finding a wife.”
“Good
heavens! You live in the big city. Looks like you have plenty of money. You
sound smart. You dress well. You must’ve had a lot of opportunities to meet a
woman who’d find her way into your heart.”
“Yes,
everything you have outlined is indeed true. I am an educated man of means who
could have almost any woman within reach. But therein lies the problem. It is
known by most people, and in particular, women, that I am a wealthy man, and I
fear my trust they will breach.”
“Okay, so
what do you want me to do? Want me to find you a wife? I’m no matchmaker. And
why here, for God’s sake? This is the middle of nowhere.”
“That is my
point, my good man. We are in the middle of nowhere, far from the big city, the
place in which I live and toil. I am anonymous here and nobody knows where I
come from or what I am worth. It will give me a chance at love—the opportunity
to find the right girl.”
“So, if I
choose to help you, you’re going to have to change,” I said. “Your clothes, your
car, and the way you talk will give you away. This town may be in the boonies
and nobody here knows who you are, but we’re not stupid. It’s clear, you’re not
from around here, stranger.”
“Your
points are well taken and I understand from where you are coming. Therefore, a
plan of action, I must conceive. With your help and guidance, I need to become
a man of these parts. I need to look and talk as if I belong to make people
believe.”
“You know,
this plan of yours is a bit odd, but things can get a might boring around here.
This is a challenge I think I am up to. So let’s give it a try.
“First
we’ll get rid of your car. There is a vacant barn about three miles out of
town. Nobody goes there. I’ll take the car there tonight. But then your
clothes? Hmm, you and I are about the same size. Since I’m in uniform most
every day, I think I can part with three or four things to dress you in. You
should fit in real well. But there’s a major hurdle we must address.”
“What major
hurdle? Your plan is well thought out. It sounds great. Maybe I could move in
with you. I could be your long lost cousin from a small city upstate.
“I would need a new name, something worthy
of your nice town, simple, down to earth and country-like. Okay, I think I have
it—simple and definitely country. How does this sound? I am now Billy-Bob
Pike.”
“Hold it!
Hold it! Yeah, the name works. But you’ve missed the most important point.”
“What point?
It all makes sense. I think the name is fantastic, a work of art. It sounds
like I belong—that I fit in. This is great. I knew finding this place was a
major stroke of luck and I am going to enjoy being one of your kin.”
“I hate to
keep repeating myself,” I exclaimed. “But you’re still missing the most
important point. It’s the way you talk. If we can’t change that, it might prove
to be your undoing.”
“Well, I do
not know if such a transformation is possible, for I have spoken this way all
my life and attended the best schools to learn proper speech. How do we modify
what I have been doing for such a long time? I am not a youngster and am not
going to be easy to teach.”
I faced
this guy who now seemed somewhat down in the dumps. His despair so obvious, it
tugged at my heartstrings. “Come on, let’s put the smile back on your face,” I
blurted. “I don’t know much about teaching good language, but helping you to
talk the way I do—well, maybe. Let’s get started.
First,
we’ll sneak you into my place. Can’t let anybody know what’s happening. We’ll
keep you there until we make you small-town presentable, with talk to match.
Sound like a plan?”
“Kind sir,
you make me want to scream out in praise for the great kindness in your heart.
I am ready, willing, and able to become your prize pupil, to reshape my big
city ways, and to let my speech education start.”
So my work
began. I drove Billy-Bob’s car to the vacant barn down the road apiece. Then I
moved him into my small house, dressed him in a down-home Texas way, and began
to work on how he talked.
In exchange
for my help, old Billy-Bob gave me a hand around my place, doing some cleaning
and fixing up. It pleased me to have him around.
I kept him
well hidden from the eyes of the townsfolk. Months passed. He took his speech
learning to heart and things seemed to be falling into place.
With the
our community’s annual Christmas party approaching, the timing seemed right for
Billy-Bob’s coming out party. This would be our biggest celebration of the
year, the event at which the town’s unattached womenfolk never missed. So on
that day, both Billy-Bob and I dressed in my
Sunday finest, got into my marshal’s car, and drove to town.
The
streets, decorated to the hilt, sparkled. Christmas lights hung from all the
trees. Plastic snowmen, with corncob pipes, stood at every corner. Townspeople,
both young and old, strolled down Main Street singing, “I’m dreaming of a white
Christmas.” We parked the car and made our way to Centennial Hall for the big
party.
We entered
the main entrance of the hall and checked in with a women dressed as an elf
seated behind a table decorated with red, green, and gold ornaments. Nice touch, I thought. We then paraded
around the spacious ballroom, stopping to greet the people of my small, but
wonderful town. I introduced Billy-Bob to all the fine folks, as my cousin from
Dawson, about seventy-five miles up the road.
The time
for Billy-Bob’s big test had now arrived. I turned to him and whispered, “You
ready to go it alone?”
He
whispered back, “Yeah man, I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Okay,
you’re on your own. Go meet the gal of your dreams.”
With the
music playing, “Walking in a Winter Wonderland,” Billy-Bob made his way through
the room. I saw him walk up to a pretty middle-aged woman. They began to dance.
Things looked good, so I decided to get on with my evening.
I lost
sight of Billy-Bob as the night wore on. The loud crowd seemed to be having a
great time. Then, out of nowhere, Billy-Bob appeared, tugging a might pretty
lady with him. He made his way up to me and said in his finest “country” manner,
. . .
“Cousin
Bobby, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Melissa Warren, Missy Warren’s aunt
from the big city of Santa Fe.”
“Well,
welcome to our fair town, Miss Warren,” I said in a warm, gentle voice.”
Dressed in
classy duds, she looked at me, smiled, and replied in a charming city way, “The
pleasure to meet you is all mine, kind sir. It is my distinct honor to be
invited to this magnificent Christmas ball tonight. And meeting your cousin has
been the height of my evening. With his down-home Texas charm, he does enthrall
and delight.
“I have enjoyed my short time in your
lovely community and, since meeting your nice cousin, I believe I will extend
my stay. He is the man for whom I have been searching, a man of little
pretense, open and kind, in a fine country way.”
And so it
appeared, “cousin” Billy-Bob indeed had found the “gal of his dreams.”
Copyright © 2013
Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
Finding The Gal Of His Dreams—
With Rhyme And Reason
One day he appeared in our small, rural Texas town, drivin’
a new black Lexis tourin’ car. When he got out, dressed in spiffy clothes from
head to toe, he looked like a movie star.
Heads turned as he moseyed down Main Street. I wondered why
he’d come here. He saw me standin’ in front of McNealy’s General Store, but why
he headed my way wasn’t clear.
As he neared, my ears started twitchin’ and my eyes began
rollin’ around. I stared in awe at this fancy gentleman and tried to speak,
but couldn’t utter a sound.
“My dear chap,” he stated, “Let me take this opportunity to
introduce myself to you. My name is Tobias Augustine Barrett III, from New York
City, a man of pride and passion, too.”
His fine speech threw me for a loop. I had no idea how
to act or what to say. “Uh . . . I’m Robert Bell, Jr., the town marshal, but
you can call me Bobby,” I stammered in my down-home country way.
He ran his eyes up from the tip of my toes to the top
of my head. “I do not see, on any part of your dress, a badge indicating you
are the law,” he said.
I bent my head to scan my duds, only to discover my
badge had gone a missin’. “Sir, I could have sworn I put it on this mornin’
after I came home from fishin’.”
He smiled and spoke, “No matter, for the moment let’s
say we are in agreement, you are the man in command. Therefore, I must ask your
indulgence in listening closely to the proposal I put forth and do your best to understand.
“It has been over five years since my wife died and
not a day goes by that I do not shed a tear. However, it is my worst nightmare
to live out my life alone, to have nobody with whom to share my hopes and
dreams. This is my biggest fear.
“So I decided to put my grieving behind me, put my
affairs in order, go out in the world and get on with my life. I made a list of
everything I needed to do and each has been checked off in an orderly manner, except
one— finding a wife.”
“Good heavens! You live in the big city. And it looks
like you have plenty of money. You definitely sound smart. You must have a lot
of chances to meet a woman who’d find her way into your heart.”
“Yes, everything you say is indeed true, for I am an
educated man of means who could have almost any woman within reach. But therein
lies the problem, as it is widely known by all, especially women, I am a
wealthy man, and I fear my trust they will breach.”
“Okay, so whatta you want me to do? I’m not the
marryin’ type. And why here? How am I goin’ to find you a wife?” “That’s my point, my good man, for I am anonymous
here and it will give me a chance at love and the opportunity to go on with my
life.”
“So, if I choose to help you, you’re gonna haveta
change—your clothes, your car, and the way you talk will give you away.” “So, kind sir, with your help and guidance, I need to
become a man of these parts and look and talk as if I belong, with all the
right things to say.
“You know, this plan of yours is a bit odd, but
things can get a might borin’ around here, so let’s give it a try. First we’ll
get rid of your car, then your clothes—hmm, you and I are about the same size,
so my duds will fit real well—make you a real western guy.”
“All right,
but I will need a new name, something worthy of your nice town—simple, down to
earth, and country-like. Yes, I think I know what it is, simple and definitely
cowboy. I will be Billy-Bob Pike.”
“Yeah, the name sounds great, but there’s one big
thing that keeps makin’ you seem strange. And it will be your undoin,’ if the
way you talk doesn’t change.”
I stared at this guy who seemed down in the dumps,
his despair so obvious it made me sad-hearted. “Come on, smile,” I blurted. “I
ain’t much on teachin’ good language, but learnin’ you to talk the way I
talk—well . . . maybe . . . so let’s get started.”
My chores began with the movin’ of Billy-Bob’s car to
the vacant barn down the road, a far distance for walkin’. Then I moved him
into my small house, clothed him in my western duds, and began to work on his
talkin’.
I kept him well hidden from the eyes of the town and,
as the months passed, his speech learnin’ seemed to be fallin’ into place. With
the town’s annual Christmas party commin’ soon, the timin’ would be right for
Billy-Bob to meet the townsfolk face to face.
So that Friday evenin’, both Billy-Bob and I dressed
in my Sunday finest and got into my
marshal’s car and drove to town. We went into the party and, with the big test
approachin’, I introduced Billy-Bob as my cousin from Dawson, about seventy-five miles down.
Turning toward him, I sputtered, “You’re on your own
now, so move around the hall so you can meet the gal of your dreams tonight.”
He disappeared, but as the evenin’ wore on, out of nowhere he reappeared,
tuggin’ a might pretty lady—a beautiful sight.
In his most elegant “western” manner, he drawled,
“Cousin Bobby, it is my pleasure to introduce Miss Melissa Warren, Missy
Warren’s aunt from the big city of Santa Fe.” Dressed in her classy city duds, she looked at me,
smiled, and spoke in a charmin’ city way.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, kind sir, and it is my
distinct honor to have been invited to this magnificent Christmas ball tonight.
And meeting your cousin has been the height of my evening. With his down-home Texas
charm, he does enthrall and delight.
“I have enjoyed my short time in your wonderful town,
and, since making the acquaintance of this marvelous man, I believe I will
extend my stay. He is just what I have been searching for, a
gentleman of little pretense, enchanting, and kind in a fine western way.”
And so, it seems, “cousin” Billy-Bob indeed had found
the “gal of his dreams.”
Copyright © 2017
Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
