Jasper

 Del and I were on our way to Memphis to meet up with Chris.  He was going to the university there, and we were going to take a trip to Six Flags over MidAmerica outside St. Louis.  We had decided to take the southern route to Memphis for two reasons.  One was that it was more scenic, and the other was that I wanted to go by Heflin, AL to visit the graves of my relatives.  

 It was getting late, so we decided to stop in Jasper, AL for the night.  At the outskirts of town was a big sign that said "Jasper Welcomes You.  The home of George 'Goober' Lindsey."  Well, that was kind of interesting.  We had seen him on "The Andy Griffith Show" and "Hee Haw", so he was a big celebrity in these parts.  

 We found a cheap motel across the street from a Shoney's that looked like a decent place to spend the night.  After checking in, we walked over to the Shoney's in rural Alabama.  Del and I walked into the restaurant and found a table.  He had long hair, which may have been why this happened, but everybody stopped eating and stared at us.  They could tell that we weren't from around there.  The waitress came to take our order, while the others were still staring at us.  We got very uncomfortable.  Our food came, and I told Del to eat fast.  We had to get out of there.  I was having a flashback of the last scene in "Easy Rider", where the guys in the truck kill Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper.  We gobbled down our food and got out of there.

 As we were leaving, I looked back to see most of the patrons going back to their meals.  I should have told them to say hey to Goober, but that might have been the last straw with them.  I was a little afraid to go back to the motel, but we both got up early the next morning and got out of town before most folks had woken up.  We got our motor running, and we headed down the highway looking for adventure in whatever came our way.

Hair

  When I was at Anderson College, I had kind of long hair.  It wasn't down my back, but it was longer than it was in high school.  I liked longer hair.  Despite my political beliefs of accepting the hippie lifestyle, I also wanted to kind of look the part.  At least, it was over my ears and below my neckline.  I was cast in a play called "Up the Down Staircase", where I was to be a very conservative teacher.  So, I had to have shorter hair for that.  It was the Spring of 1972.

   There was a barbershop in downtown Anderson.  When I went in to get my hair cut, I knew there might be a problem.  Everybody in there had short hair.  The barber was old and bald.  They all stared at me.  Some chuckled.  I was used to the stares, because I knew I didn't fit into the Anderson, SC mold, but it still should have been a red flag. I don't like to judge others, but these guys had red necks.

 I sat down in the barber chair and told him what I needed.  Short back and sides.  He proceeded to cut.  And he cut.  And he cut.  I was sitting there thinking how long it would take to grow back my hair to my desired length.  The barber was almost finished, when he asked me if I wanted him to shave my neck.  Of course, I wanted him to shave my neck.  All barbers, in the history of my going to the barbershop, had shaved me neck.  So, I said yes.  He pulled out his electric razor and proceeded to shave my neck all the way up the backside of my head.  He stopped at that bone that is at the back of one's head.  

 When I got out of the chair, I paid him and left mortified.  The other patrons were laughing.  By a stroke of luck, I ended up with a dual role in the play.  My other character had to have longer hair than the butchering I got at the barbershop, so I wore a wig.  I wasn't crazy about it, but at least it covered up my "shaved neck".  It took six months to grow out again.  Thankfully, it was long enough to play a part of a long-haired boy in November 1972.  No more wigs.

Running

  Back at Anderson College, I ran a lot.  I built up my legs and lungs to where I could run up to six miles.  That is not marathon shape, but I just liked to run.  My stamina was great.  Now, if anyone wants to compare me to "Forrest Gump", don't.  One of the things I liked to do was to run from campus to the main highway through Anderson to see my possible girlfriend drive from her job toward her home.  That was about 2 miles each way.  We got closer later on.

 Every Saturday, I would play tennis with a fellow student.  It was not unusual for us to play for three hours or up to six sets.  I would usually win, but mostly it was just fun.  I was in fantastic shape.  On Sunday nights, I would sit in the bleachers at the baseball field to meditate.  Then, I would run across the field back to my dorm.  I wasn't very good in organized sports, but I did love to run.

One day in P. E. class, our teacher wanted us to run the 100-yard dash and be timed.  When my turn came up, the teacher said "Go", and a student used a stopwatch.  I ran and was timed at 9.3 seconds.  That was world-class speed.  That was Olympic speed.  Unfortunately, it didn't count.  There was a strong wind at my back, and they said the wind was pushing me along.  Maybe it did, but I flew like the wind that day.  

 Later on, at Presbyterian College, I had to run up four flights of stairs to my dorm room.  The elevator never worked.  I was able to do it, because of being in shape.  My thighs were really muscular.  I rode a bicycle all over Laurens County.  Between walking, running and cycling, I was in the best shape of my life.  

 Then, I got a car after graduation.  All of that physical exercise sort of went away.  Even though I still walked a lot, I was never in that kind of shape again.  

Trinity

  I have only once been asked to be the Best Man at a wedding.  I have been a groomsman a couple of times, but being the Best Man is an awesome responsibility.  Although in this case, it wasn't as much of a responsibility as someone not knowing what to do.  

 My brother was getting married to Susan Maxwell at Trinity Episcopal Church in Columbia.  Some call it a "cathedral".  It was 1974.  Trinity is a very dignified church.  Some call it "high church".  John was pretty nervous.  We were in a room off of the sanctuary.  As his Best Man, I was trying to calm him down, but it wasn't working.  He was pacing back and forth, while I was trying to get him to sit down.  My father had been back there, too, but he was doing some of the ceremony and had to go into the sanctuary to be there before us.  I knew what the cue was to come out to the sanctuary with my brother.  He was more than ready.

 I was standing next to him in the sanctuary.  Susan came walking down the aisle.  We were all smiling.  Then, something happened to me.  My nose starting itching.  I don't know why, but I felt I couldn't take away from their moment, so I tried to just cope.  I really wanted to scratch my nose, but John would have killed me, so I just tried to endure the itch.

 When the wedding was over, we filed out onto the front lawn of the church.  John and Susan had to catch a flight to Paris for their honeymoon, so they were running to his car to get to the airport.  Someone took a picture of their run, and I got in that picture.  I was finally scratching my nose.  When they got the wedding pictures back, John was furious at me.  He thought I was picking my nose, as they were running across the lawn.  It was the only picture of them doing that.  I insisted that I wasn't picking my nose, but only scratching it.  He didn't believe me.  To this day, I can honestly tell you that it was a scratch and not a pick.  At least, that is my story, and I'm sticking to it.