Charlie, having become acclimated to his schedule, no longer found the need to rush to his barracks, eat, and rush straight to bed. Instead, he wrote letters back home to his family, explaining that he was having a wonderful time. He and Brandon Stokes became friends, going downtown to check out the local historical sites and of course, the FSU babes.
“Is this the school you intend to attend after graduation?” he asked Brandon.
“Absolutely,” he responded.
“What do you plan to major in?” Charlie asked.
“Law. My father is convinced. We must have at least one lawyer in the family. My older sister is a professor at Florida State. A genius at math. Can you believe it?”
There was hardly a break in routine. Charlie began to feel his muscles get bigger, his skin more toned and darker, hardly resembling the pale, Yankee boy he once was. The pale Yankee boy that appeared in these parts just a few days ago was no longer Charlie. The new Charlie looked like he had lived here all his life.
Late Thursday afternoon, the skies got dark, and a little breeze kicked up. The workers prayed that it would rain just enough to cool things off but not so much as to interfere with the work they were doing. If a hard rain should suddenly appear, it would slow down their progress of watermelon packing with the need to lay off some of the hands which no one wanted to happen. For some of the workers, money from working in the melon patches was all they had to look forward to in order to live.
Friday, Charlie was asked to follow behind the worker cutting the melons from the vines which Charlie then moved to the edge of the row. He was very thankful for the change, giving his muscles a chance to get over some of their soreness since it was just a one-step operation. At the end of each row, Charlie took a rest. At least until the truck and its crew caught up. On that day, they were feted with a more elaborate lunch and given an hour and a half for lunch instead of just one hour.
Remembering to bring his binoculars, Charlie used his extra time to birdwatch. The number of bird species recognized and accepted by the Florida Ornithological Society Records Committee is 525. The state bird is the Northern Mockingbird. The top ten birds are FL Scrub-Yay (Aphelocoma), Snail Kite, White Crowned Pigeon, Limpkin, Short-Tailed Hawk, Gray Kingbird, Northern Cardinal, Purple Gallinule, Bald Eagle, and the Killdeer. It is the state’s unique geographical location and suitable tropical climate, that attracts so many bird species to Florida. Luckily, Charlie, using his binoculars, spotted a bald eagle on her nest and a family of blue jays flying around the perimeter.
Saturday was a bonus day for the field workers. The work stopped early in the afternoon. The boss would come around, paying the local laborers for their week’s work. Charlie rushed back to the barracks, changed clothes, and headed downtown. He and Brandon attended a Florida State off-season football match. An annual event giving the team coaches a chance to test their game strategy before local spectators and supporters.
From the attendance, you would have thought it was a regular season-sanctioned match against an opposing team from another university! The regular season FSU team was divided into two teams. One team gold, the other garnet. Playing each other, to test the strength of the team program; possibly leading to changes in the lineup before the regular season.
Brandon’s girlfriend showed up at the game with a girlfriend in tow. The girl in tow took an interest in Charlie with the two hanging out together for the rest of the day, enjoying the conversation more than the game. After too many beers and less than a sober parting from a girl he was beginning to take a great liking to, Charlie headed back to the barracks as Sunday for Charlie and the other workers was just another workday.
Sunday. The workers were given an extra hour to sleep in. Which a very hung-over Charlie was very appreciative. Having no previous experience in drinking, Charlie was experiencing his first head-throbbing hangover, thinking his head might, literally, explode. “How in the hell do people go through this dreadful torment day after day,” he wondered.
With tremendous relief, work was suspended early that afternoon, giving the workers a chance to spend time with their families. With some attending church services that evening. Charlie hung out with Brandon and his friends, drinking a little beer (hair of the dog and that sort of thing), and playing touch football. The two girls from the evening before arrived with Charlie discovering he really liked Charlene. They shared addresses, phone numbers, etc., vowing to stay in touch and perhaps meet up again someday.
Monday, a very sober and contrite Charlie, moved over to another watermelon field where Charlie was given a new job: packing watermelons in a 40-foot rail car for shipment up North. Charlie had been observed doing an exceptionally good job packing the melons on the trucks by one of the older workers. It was his recommendation that Charlie be moved to the rail car. “An unexpected blessing!” thought Charlie. “A great break from the other job! No rattlesnakes!”
“At least, I will not have the relentless sun baring down on me from sunup to sundown. But, on the downside: the heat inside this damn rail car, with no ventilation other than the two open doors in the center of the rail car, is almost unbearable! And having to contend with these murderous, relentless swarms of mosquitoes that seem to magically appear late every evening is worst here in the shade than in the open field!”
“Drinking gallons of water seems to help.” Charlie thought: “I just wish I knew a way to ‘fake’ breaking a watermelon so I can eat the heart out of it. [could the expression, commonly used when a person wants to make a sarcastic remark: “Go eat your heart out” originate from a simple watermelon patch?] Throwing the watermelon up to the guy on the truck to catch and missing was easy, But I don’t see that happening here in this overheated railcar,” he thought.
But the mother of human invention thought otherwise. Charlie, faking a stumbling action, dropped a watermelon which immediately split. That’s when he discovered that all the workers around him, had the same idea. They couldn’t wait to devour the one watermelon that would not be heading north!
It was clear, as the tortuous week dragged on, the packers were receiving less than usual watermelons, rail-side, for packing. The original estimate was two weeks or a total of fourteen non-stop workdays to complete the job. With the dedication of hard workers like Charlie and the older, seasoned field workers; those who had worked for Mr. Stokes for years, the task was over by Friday afternoon. Tearfully, they all said their goodbyes. Telling Charlie: “You are one of the best damn Yankees we have ever had the pleasure of working with. In the future, just don’t put any milk and sugar on your grits.”
The world away from home was not as isolated as Charlie may have thought. A charter member of the local Iowa FFA chapter back in Iowa called and invited Charlie to attend, all expenses paid, the annual FFA National Meeting held in Daytona Beach, Florida.
Saying farewell to Charlene was not easy. As lovers do when separating, plans to meet in the future were hastily drawn up, with each pledging to write, often. Neither one wanted to admit that long-distance romances hardly ever work out.
In Iowa, the Future Farmers of America (FFA), a youth organization, with 246 Chapters and approximately 16,000 student members across Iowa. The organization offers its members, premier leadership training, and personal growth, through its agriculture education programs. The national meeting was held in Daytona Beach, and attended by invited chapter members from all over the country. The National FFA organization has, over the years, enjoyed tremendous success. Providing agriculture growth around the globe through sound leadership in farming and husbandry.
The National FFA convention members began to assemble in Daytona Beach on Wednesday. Charlie arrived on Saturday with little time left before the convention adjoined, followed by closing ceremonies, and a farewell party for all guests on Sunday.
Charlie was grateful to be given this opportunity to attend. Although his attendance was limited to the weekend. “I wonder,” thought Charlie. “Did my famous sister, have something to do with my being selected to attend the National FFA Convention this late? Who cares! So, what if she did. At least I will be escaping wet Tallahassee.” (Yes! The rains in the Tallahassee area began that same Friday night – it almost seemed as if the rain gods held back the rain, giving the local farmers a chance to gather in their crops).
As an honorary member and guest, Charlie sat with the Iowa delegation. As a member in good faith, Charlie was given full voting and discussion participation rites when called on. Regrettably, while Charlie was stuck in a North Florida watermelon patch, attending any of the earlier meetings was not an option.
Not only did he regret missing the meetings at the conferences but missing the opportunity to spend more time with Lenora. A girl he met while strolling along the beach boardwalk. She was blond and beautiful! Her family ran a motel on the beach with Lenora attending the local high school, Seabreeze. Up on one of the highest Ferris wheels imaginable, overlooking the golden beach, with a slight breeze blowing, with his arm around Lenora, pinching himself, Charlie thought he had died and gone to heaven!
Utopia finally ended with Charlie and Lenora both crying and saying goodbye with a promise of undying love and assurance they would write to each other, faithfully. Hoping the gods of love would bring them back together someday. Charlie’s mind had yet to consider a very pregnant, looming conundrum: How was he going to reconcile his unabated love for two different Florida girls? Something he would figure out someday. But for now, he was still bashing in the light of an angel that only comes into one’s life, once.
17
Love
A Rose by Any Other Name is Still a Rose---
Allison, college professor and teacher of astronomy and science decided to further her studies to include tutorials in related academic fields. Allison, as far back as she could remember, had a strong interest in other subjects like archeology, astrology, geology, and philosophy. All these subjects seemed a natural progression of her inborn skills. But the going, she knew would not be easy for several reasons: how to keep a balance of teaching vs. studying, maintaining friendships with her peers and younger students—and frequent visits with her loving family.
The November weather was unusually cold. So was the initial attitude of those around her, resenting going to classes with someone, their own age group, someone, already a full professor. There were constant complaints from some of the older students: “You mean she’s already a college professor?” “She could easily pass as my teenage sister or brother.”
That attitude soon changed. Allison, no shrinking violent. Not the type who feels comfortable just hanging around in the shadows of someone else’s greatness, someone perceived as better than you. No. she quickly became a voice in her own right. Not shy to let her presence be known. Holding back her brilliance was not an option. Fearless, she joined in every debate. Sometimes displaying more knowledge of the subject being discussed than her instructor.
In no time at all, her contemporaries began to recognize that they were in the presence of a person who was going to change the world, academically. Those who had earlier snubbed her were fast becoming some of the first to seek out her friendship. Like nocturnal flies, seeking out the brightest light, they came to acknowledge her for what she really was: a brilliant and warm individual.
Professor Rose Smits, teacher of chemistry and basic science classes, including astrology, was the first teaching professor recognized by her peers for her brilliance, becoming fast friends with Allison. As an astrologist, Rose specialized in the study and relative position of celestial bodies. A motor-mouth, a non-stop talking machine, endless repartee that seemed to never end, a modern-day Ms. Marple. Their friendship: a clear case of opposites attracts.
Professor Rose Smits was born in Tupelo, Mississippi, the youngest, with three older brothers. Never missing an opportunity to tell everyone she met her life story. And that Tupelo, Mississippi was the birthplace of Elvis Presley. He was a one-time ‘hot subject’ among the young. Now that Elvis is considered a ‘has-been,’ no one cared to hear her story.
By the age of eleven, Rose’s teachers were convinced: “Rose is either a polymath or close to being one.” School for Rose was boring. Mississippi public schools are not necessarily considered paragons of higher learning. The school curriculum offered little challenge to a brain like Rose's.
The city of Tupelo, Mississippi was Rose’s place of birth, a place where she lived for most of her young life. The city was Chartered around 1866, becoming Lee County’s headquarters for all governmental offices including the local jail. A small town. Almost wiped out by the tornado of 1936. The city of Tupelo is noted for its scenic parkways, the most famous: Natchez Trace Parkway.
Another local attraction for visitors and locals is the Tupelo Buffalo Park and Zoo boasts having over 260 varieties of animals, with buffalo as its main attraction, popular with families with children. At 175 acres, it is the largest zoo in the state of Mississippi. Many of the zoo animals, like the American prairie buffalo, just mentioned are on the endangered list.
Tupelo also distinguished itself by being the first community to be hooked up to the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) electrical cooperative. The nation’s largest federally owned public power cooperation. A government-operated electrical grid system offering cheap power to the surrounding communities like Tupelo.
