Archived Story

Write Again … What a real ladies’ man!

Published 9:13pm Monday, August 13, 2012

At no time during my journey across the years have I ever thought of myself as a ladies’ man. (And with good reason, you may add. Be kind, now.)
However, there was one occasion when I just might have allowed myself to think maybe, just maybe, that I might have that little something that caused the ladies to, well, think maybe that I just might be, you know, kind of appealing. Aw, shucks.
In late summer of ’59, after completing basic and advanced training at Fort Knox, I was assigned to an eight-week clerical school.
A young man named Bruce Smith and I became friends during this period. Bruce was from Owensboro, Ky., which wasn’t very far from Fort Knox.
We had a weekend off during this time, and were eligible to get a weekend pass. Now, that’s a good deal.
Bruce invited me to come home with him, which was very thoughtful. Of course I took him up on this opportunity. Sleep in a real bed. Have home-cooked meals. Be with a very nice family. Let’s go.
And a very nice family it was. His mother was a gracious host and a good homemaker. His father was a kindly man who was a banker. Bruce’s grandmother lived with the family. She seemed the stereotypical sweet matriarch.
Now, stay with me. I’m getting to my point.
One night we went to a dance hall over in Evansville, Ind. I can’t recall just what we did the other night.
I do recall, however, that some young ladies came around to the house that first morning. Kind of nice.
And then, a couple more dropped by that afternoon. Interesting. Evidently the word got out. Cool.
All in all, it was a really enjoyable and special weekend. Sort of puffed up my self-esteem a bit, too.
On our way back to Fort Knox on Sunday afternoon, I mentioned to Bruce how pleasant it was having the ladies drop by. Of course, I was appropriately modest about this. About their obvious interest in me, that is.
It was about then that Bruce said, “Do you know why they came by?”
Maintaining my modest mode, I just shook my head.
“They came by,” he said, “because they wanted to hear you talk.”
“Hear me talk?”
“Yeah. They’ve never heard such a Southern accent.”
“Thanks a lot, Bruce.”

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