I truly believed I was going to have a fun adventure to tell my friends when I got back home. Let’s just say things didn’t go as planned.
Let me back up a little here. It was the summer of 1980 and I was fifteen years old. Mom, Mamaw Jo, Papaw E.O., and I were spending the weekend in Fletcher, NC. In case you’ve never heard of it, Fletcher is a small town just a little east of Asheville. Papaw’s army buddy Porter lived there and he invited us over to spend the weekend with him and his family.
Word to the wise: “You just never know who is listening.”
Some of you already know this about me, but for those of you who don’t, my mother is an absolute hoot. When I was in high school, some of my friends would call and ask, “Is your mom there? I’d like to talk to her.” You know, I kinda got used to it.