Yesterday Wayne Teeter celebrated his 62nd birthday. Wayne has been one of my friends since I was a child. Together with Stan Gaskins and other buddies, we went to the square dances back in the '50s and flirted with the girls. We roamed the village at night, walking barefoot through the soft sand lanes. Together we gigged flounders on the reef. Wayne taught me to eat raw clams. We rode ponies, shared stories, chunked clam shells in the road, and even snitched a Coca-Cola now and then from the mailboat, "Dolphin," when she was tied up at the dock. Our birthdays are only two weeks apart.
At the party yesterday evening in Wayne & Ada's yard Earl Gaskins was serving ice cream. When I approached with my piece of cake a smile grew on Earl's face. "Bucky," he said, with an impish grin, "I didn't know you could be so sappy! And why did you tell us all that?"
"So, you've been reading my journal [see Monday, August 7]," I shot back. "I guess I'll have to be more careful from now on."
But now the cat is out of the bag, as they say. I believe I'll be reminded of my sappy journal entry for many years to come.
You can read our latest newsletter here. It's about Ocracoke Islanders and "tokens of death.".