Cooperative Living January 2015 - 42

RURAL LIVING by Margo Oxendine, Contributing Columnist
what must be called the Middle of
Nowhere. I love places in the middle
of nowhere. I much prefer them
to big cities, most of the time.
I walked into the place and did
not see my friend. I went to the
counter of the bustling spot. I must
have looked confused. I asked a
stupid question: " I'm wondering if
I'm in the right place? "
" Are you here to meet Edward? "
IN PRAISE
OF PINK
HATS
D
eadlines being what they are, I
must write this column immediately
after Thanksgiving, and
even then it's late, as usual.
Oh, Thanksgiving. Isn't it but a distant
memory now that Christmas has
passed and we've rung in the New Year?
Still. The day after Thanksgiving -
known as " Black Friday " - I was determined
not to go shopping. Frankly, I
could not be paid to go near a store or a
mall on Black Friday. I try to do all my
gift shopping - what little there is of it
- online.
Sadly, I am no longer a shopper. I
must say, however, I retired a champion.
So, I decided to have some fun on
Black Friday and go see a fabulous new
friend. At my age, fabulous new friends
are few and far between, so I try to grab
them up quickly.
He lives on a sheep farm near
Churchville, so we decided to meet for
lunch at one of his favorite places. This
is not the sort of place where one must,
or even can, make reservations. It is the
Mountain View General Store in West
Augusta. Truly, a sweet little place in
40
Tracey, the clerk, asked.
Wow. I was! Perhaps I looked
rather out of place among the host of
hunters coming in for beef jerky,
pickled eggs and camouflage gloves.
While I waited, I browsed. I love
little general stores. They are
chockablock with treasures you
won't find in any mall. You never
know just what you
might find. And
indeed, I did find
something I've
been seeking for
months now: Real
cherry jam. I
snatched it up.
And then, what
did I see but something
I'd been
thinking I needed
for ages now: A
winter hat. Not
just any hat, mind
you. Not the type
of hat one might
wear to church.
No. It was a proper
winter hat with a
faux-fur trim and
earflaps you can
pull down and
buckle under your
chin. I picked up a
black one, and then I spotted it,
peeking out from the pile of
flapped hats: Hot pink! I snatched
it up. Where in the world might
one find a hot pink hat with faux
fur earflaps? I tell you, that hat was
sitting on the shelf just waiting for
me, and only me.
When Edward arrived, he greeted
everyone like they were old
friends, which indeed they are. We
went back to talk to Betty, who was
cooking in the kitchen. She was
deviling eggs, and frying country
ham. We had a tasty lunch, yakking
in high spirits, trying to get the
low-down on each other. Delightful.
On the drive home, I thought
happily of my new pink hat. And
then it hit me: Pink hats are a
recurring part of my life. When I
was about 3, I put on my little pink
hat and took off toward town from
my aunt's farm. I had been made to
stay home as a punishment, but by
golly, I wanted to go to town. My
mother looked everywhere, and
finally, she could see the top of my
little pink hat just bobbing over the
rise in the road. I still remember
that pink hat.
Suddenly,
the loudspeaker
blurted
to
life: " Get
that woman
in the pink
hat off the
field! "
When I first started
my life as a newspaper
reporter, I was
also very much
obsessed with berets.
I had them in about
seven or eight colors.
But naturally, I
preferred the hot
pink one.
I vividly recall
wearing it to take
photos at a football
game. I neither
know, nor care,
about football. Yet
duty called, and I
had to attempt to
capture the fervent
action. I stepped out
onto the field to get
a closer shot of the
thundering herd
headed toward me at
full throttle.
Suddenly, the loudspeaker blurted
to life: " Get that woman in the pink
hat off the field! " a voice boomed.
Oh. That must be me.
So, I went shopping on Black
Friday anyway. And I am already
making memories with my new
pink hat. 
To order Margo Oxendine's A Party of One,
email recorder@htcnet.org, or call 540-4682147
Monday-Thursday from 9-5.
Cooperative Living/January 2015
Cooperative Living January 2015

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