“It’s a small world. And the older I get, the smaller it gets.”
— Original source unknown. I attribute it to my long-time friend and sage, Oscar Elliott. 1947 — 2016
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“Think we’ll see someone we know,” a traveling friend always asks when we venture out of town.
“Naw,” I say. Always.
Bet you a dollar,” the friend challenges me. Always.
My record is zero for every dollar I’ve wagered. Because I lose. Every time.
Crossing paths with someone we know in a place where we both are out of our element. Those “what are the odds” happenings that can often be startling.
We talked about that very thing just a few days ago at our regular weekly meeting of coffee consuming codgers. We’d already worn out the big natural gas outage in Center the weekend before and moved on to other topics. Like how those “small world” chance meetings with people you know make the world seem smaller.
“You …” one of the caffeine cohorts shot in my direction. “You know lots of people from the newspaper business. And I’ve heard you peg geographical references for Texas towns by the newspaper there … and people you know in the business.”
“Let me tell you a funny story about that,” I replied. “Some years ago, a group of newspaper types were telling tales one night at a Texas Press convention social gathering. We were swapping stories about how the newspaper business can be like a fraternity. You mention someone’s name you’ve worked with and the person you’re talking to says, ‘I know him. We worked together at a paper down in Hill Country back in the 80s.’
“At the peak of the conversation,” I continued, “Suzanne Bardwell, late wife of Gladewater Mirror publisher and friend Jim Bardwell, looked at me and said, ‘You win. I’m going to print bumper stickers that say, ‘Honk if you know Leon Aldridge.’”
I still regard that as an honor coming from Suzanne. Her reach of friends and influence in press circles far exceeded mine.
Last week, Center’s city-wide gas shutdown reminded me of another small-world scenario. Happened a few years back when the newspaper group for which I worked at the time acquired the Tribune 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 that was 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 to talk to.
Marshall filled me in on his retirement 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. 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.
“No problem,” I said. “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.
“I didn’t want to mail this bill 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 continued, “Hugh didn’t find any problems, so I was wondering if you’ve made any changes in your equipment or gas appliances. Something big? Hugh noticed you’ve added a swimming pool. Is it by chance heated?”
“How bad is it,” I asked before looking at the bill.
Marshall said nothing. I looked.
“Seven hundred and fifty dollars,” I gasped.
Thoughts of a second job or 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 it like yesterday because it was the only time we used it. Cold pool water early in the season wasn’t that bad. Once you got used to it.
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 in Center lately. First, to restore the city-wide natural gas outage. Then, a week later, 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. The one about “No matter where you go, there you are.”
I can only add that wherever you are, you are also likely to see someone you know.
I’ll bet you a dollar.
—Leon Aldridge
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Aldridge columns are published in these newspapers and magazines: The Center Light and Champion, the Mount Pleasant Tribune, the Rosenberg Fort Bend Herald, the Taylor Press, the Alpine Avalanche, The Fort Stockton Pioneer, The Monitor in Naples, and Motor Sports Magazine.
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