Archive for July, 2012

The Orange Slices

Ocean Spirit by Garnet Goldman

This column originally appeared in the June 2012 issue of Forsyth Family magazine:

After I bought my first house in the late 1980s, I discovered that it came with a priceless bonus – wonderful neighbors. Over the years, R.L. Whitfield became a particularly good friend. My dog, Buster, and his dog, Chocolate, became good friends, too.

Buster – or His Dogness as he came to be known in the wider world – liked to eat a little bit, go about his business and come back later to eat some more. Chocolate was of the more classic, eat-it-all-now school of dog thought. Knowing that Buster’s dish might have food in it, Chocolate would shoot toward the kitchen the instant he stepped through our front door. Buster would rush after him. Bringing up the rear, he would bark, “Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I’m not done with that.” When I went on vacation, R.L. and Chocolate would take care of Buster so he never had to say in a kennel.

R.L. grew up in Winston-Salem in a family that didn’t have a lot of money. He courted and married Pearl and went off to serve in the Pacific with the U.S. Navy during the Second World War. After the war, President Truman wanted the U.S. military to blow up some more atomic bombs on Bikini Atoll “to determine the effect of atomic bombs on American warships.” I mention this because R.L. was on one of the ships sent there. After watching an atomic bomb detonate, he came home and went back to work with his father and brother, Bill, who had also served in the Navy, at Whitfield Sewing Machine Co. R.L. and Pearl had a son, Bucky.

R.L. is a funny guy and a great storyteller, and, over the years, his stories elicited a lot of smiles as, over time, he created a vivid picture of a world that I wouldn’t have known otherwise. After my father died, I found comfort in R.L. telling that, in all the years since his father died, he had thought about him every single day. .

After seeing them most every day for more than 20 years, I married and moved. R.L. and Pearl like sweets, and, when I go over to visit, I sometimes take a treat. R.L. is always happy to see me arrive at his front door in the company of Krispy Kreme glazed doughnuts. He likes to pretend that they’re all for him so I may make a show of handing them to Pearl and telling her that she doesn’t have to give him a single one if she doesn’t feel like it.

That old-fashioned candy that looks orange slices is another favorite. Those aren’t readily available so, whenever I’m in Ronnie’s Country Store on Cherry Street or W.G. White & Co. in Mocksville, I pick up more than one bag so that I will have a stash to draw from. Once, I found orange slices at a dollar store. I was fretful about the quality, so I asked Pearl and R.L. what they thought. Ever gracious, Pearl pronounced them delicious. Ever frank, R.L. declared them decidedly inferior. I have not done that again.

For a while there, I was underemployed. When I stopped by to tell R.L. that I had gotten a full-time job, I brought along a bag of the orange slices. We sat on the porch and visited for a while. As I was leaving, he gave me the look he uses to let me know that he is about to mess with me. Now that I am once again fully employed, R.L. said, perhaps I might bring a bigger bag next time.