Last summer a friend who does a lot of fishing asked me to accompany him for a boat outing on Buggs Island Lake. I went, but only as an observer, as I had no fishing license and did not want to purchase one for just a few hours of fishing. As it turned out, spending the day on the water, watching my friend fish, and having very little conversation, I took the opportunity to reminisce, and some of it was about fishing.
When I was about seven or eight years old, most every Saturday my mother would go to Chatham to purchase needed items. Usually that was mainly groceries from A&P or Mundy's grocery stores on Main Street. Even at that young age I was helping my father during the summer in the tobacco and corn crops and other farm chores, so I needed his permission to take time off. One Saturday I asked him if I could go with Mama to Chatham that afternoon, and he consented.
It seemed to me that most county people back then only went to Chatham on Saturdays. At least that was the way it was with my family. Chatham was a busy little town on Saturday.
That afternoon Mama drove up and down Main Street, looking for a parking place. Eventually she found a spot. We emerged from the car and put a nickel or dime in the parking meter. Mama started toward one of the grocery stores, and I asked if I could go into Overbey's Hardware. Mama agreed, and instructed me to come straight to A&P as soon as I left Overbey's.
I promptly walked into the hardware store. I had been inside many times with my father as he purchased farm supplies. So Mr. “Buckeye,” as grownups called him, knew me. He greeted me, “What brings you in today?”
After saying hello, I told him that I wanted to purchase some fishing line, a hook, and a lead sinker so I could go fishing in Cherrystone Creek, whenever Daddy would let me. He replied, “I have it already made up – hook, line, sinker – all you have to do is tie it onto a pole.” And then he brought it out and handed it to me. It was just what I needed!
“How much is it, Mr. Overbey?”
“Well, Taylor, how much have you got?”
I reached in my pocket and pulled out one dime, one nickel, and three pennies, and held it all out to him so he could see it.
“Why, Taylor, that is exactly what it costs!”
So the exchange was made. I thanked him and left to find Mama.
As time passed, I came to realize that good, warm-hearted William I. “Buckeye” Overbey, not wanting to disappoint a young boy, more or less gave me that fishing line. After seventy years, I have not forgotten his kindness to me.
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